


Man I Hate Shakespeare

by bevsmrsh



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/M, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Slurs, Violence, romeo and juliet - Freeform, slight mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-05-04 08:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14588559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevsmrsh/pseuds/bevsmrsh
Summary: Richie and Beverly are Romeo and Juliet, Eddie and Richie have been making out in his bedroom for almost three weeks, and Stan is about to have a nervous breakdown.





	1. Pilgrim’s Hands

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand,” Richie took Bev’s hand, his smile not nearly as goofy as it had been only moments before, “This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

They had been practicing this stupid seen for what felt like weeks but must have only been days. Bev would always stumble over her line after the stage kiss and the blocking would always be just off enough to notice. Stan, the director of their small production, would groan endlessly and practically pull his hair out as they were trying to get it right. Eddie sat next to Stan on the floor, knees tucked against his chest and eyes barely staying open as he waited for another scene with him in it.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,” Bev’s hand fit perfectly in the gaps of Richie’s and it always made Eddie’s stomach flip backwards. Her eyes opened wide and blinks turned into a game of batting softballs at Richie until he’d stumble over his lines as well. “Which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,” Her lipgloss looked nice but her eyeliner was smudged slightly, just on the tip of the wing. “And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” Richie stepped closer to Bev, he looked so strange with contacts in rather than having those stupid glasses on.

“Ay, pilgrim,” Stan looked slightly more awake now. “Lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” This should not bother Eddie as much as it does.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” This is the first day that they’re going to actually be kissing, considering they only have two more days until the final performance and they really need to get this scene down.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” When Richie kisses Beverly, the atmosphere changed. As Bev falls back onto her heels and Richie keeps his lips only inches away, the stiffness in Eddie’s arms grows. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

Stan had also grown stiff, his eyes slightly raised and his mind more calculated. This is it. If the words come out correctly, they’ll be done with this scene forever, only having to perform it once more in class on Friday.

There is a pause. The silent room is quieter than before. “Then have my lips the sin that they have took.”

Eddie glances towards Stan. “Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” The second their lips meet for the second time, Stan is shooting up from his chair in triumph.

“I was three seconds away from having an _actual_ nervous breakdown. You’re a fucking life saver, Beverly!”

Richie looked skeptical from his spot next to Beverly, pulling back his hand to tuck it in his pocket. “Can you have an actual nervous breakdown if you’re already having a regular one?”

Beverly rolled her eyes and slapped the back of her hand against his chest. “Beep beep, Trashmouth. I’m gonna go eat before we have to do that again. Stanley? Coming?” Stan nodded aggressively and tagged along as she exited the auditorium, waving a hand absently over her head back at Eddie and Richie.

Eddie stood, brushed off his shorts, and was about to walk past Richie when he reached out and grabbed him, stopping him in his tracks. “Let go of me you behemoth.” Eddie cried, but Richie persisted.

“If you go out there you’re gonna have to listen to New Kids on the Block with them, you know that, right, Eds?” Eddie considered his choices before nodding.

“You know I hate it when you call-“

“Yeah, yeah I know you hate when I call you Eds, my little Eddie Spaghetti. But your mother and I were having a chat and she told me that when I become your step dad,” he switched to the voice of a high-pitched southern bell, letting go of Eddie to press his hand dramatically to his own chest. “When we’re lawfully wed you can call my sweet little Eddiebear anything on God’s green earth, bless his little soul!”

Eddie gagged. “I’m gonna kill myself if you ever even speak to my mother.”

Richie smiled a proud little smile, pinching Eddie’s cheeks and pulling his face from side to side, declaring: “I’ve taught my Eddie so much!” But soon enough the hands were pulled away and cheeks were turned bright red. Richie had strong fingers.

There was a warm silence between them then. Eddie held Richie’s hands in his, staring up at him until the door to the auditorium was busted open. “Let’s go, losers!” Bev professed loudly, her voice booming and echoing across the space. “They’re gonna lock up in T-minus 10 minutes and we need to get this shit moving before someone calls the cops on us! Again!”

Their hands separated in an instant, Richie trotted towards Bev, plucking a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and waving it at her as Eddie scrambled to get their binders and papers and pencils. Everything was in a scrambled mess and he knew Stan would kill him when he saw, but this was the best he could do when he was running out of time.

As he stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the auditorium, there were only two things on his mind: Richie Tozier, and a ride home. He was thinking about Richie Tozier because the two had been having a very private and secret sort of situation for a few months now. Richie would sneak over to Eddie’s climb in through his window, and they’d make out until one of them got too tired to move. The ride home was pretty simple in concept, but in execution it was unbearable. Richie’s car “isn’t safe,” Bev is “a slut,” and Stan’s Jewish. Every possible option had a bitter outcome in Sonia’s eyes and he couldn’t live with her having a fit at him two days in a row.

As he joined his group of friends and took a seat on the half-wall next to their bus bench, he sighed and listened in on the conversation. “So,” Stan started. “Bev and I decided we’re gonna film it at the quarry. It’s like modern Romeo and Juliet but all the words will be the same. It’s way easier for costumes and stuff, since we only have until Friday to submit it.”

“I’m sorry, since when are we filming this shit show?” Eddie asked, trying to rub the spots out of his eyes.

“If we wanna get into the state-wide competition we have to send a filmed version of it in.” Bev shrugged from her place near his feet, throwing her cigarette to the ground and stomping on it. “‘Sides, I wanna show my kids this video! ‘Hey, did you know that your mom was part of the first group of theater kids ever from Derry High? Yeah, back in ‘92 we totally kicked some ass with our version of Romeo and Juliet, it was, like, so cool.”

Eddie looked at her, complete horror and disgust flooding his expression. “You want your kids to see you making out with Bigfoot?”

“Yours are gonna have to, so I think they should share the agony until they meet Uncle Richie who will, probably, live in a bus.”

“I don’t think you understand the concept of being gay, Beverly.”

“I don’t have to when I have you to inform me of all of my wrongs, Edward.”

Eddie scoffed. “You sound like Richie.”

“I thought you’d like that I did.” Their eyes met for a moment, his hands gripping relentlessly at the straps of his backpack.

“I should get going. My mom’s gonna shit herself if she comes home and sees that I’m not there.”

Stan only glanced up briefly from where he sat, busy trying to organize the carefully highlighted scripts and notes for each scene into his binder. He nodded absently and gave a little two finger salute, something that felt very reminiscent of his Boy Scout days. Bev grabbed the last of her ring pops and tossed one to Eddie as a parting gift, her middle fingers through the hole and gazing at it elegantly.

“Safe travels!” The words caused Richie’s head to swing around from his spot next to the payphone not too far from them. He smiled and placed his hand on the mouthpiece, his booming voice caused Stan to jump. “Later, Eds! Don’t get eaten by _monsters_ on your way home!”

God, this was going to be a long walk.


	2. But I Bite My Thumb Sir

Walking home alone had always been so foreign to Eddie no matter how many times he did it. There was the option of getting a taxi but there was probably only one in the entirety of Derry and cabs were usually disgusting and smelled weird and the people driving them had the same traits to an even further degree. So, he decided that walking was a better option than having that possibility.

He had to swallow his fear as he left the safety of his friends and of the school that they (read: Bev) had maybe possibly broken into but really “it’s not a big deal, I do it all the time,” which could be nothing but trouble in the coming future, but it didn’t necessarily mean he was willing to say anything about it. If it were Richie he’d probably say something, but he felt like the things Bev did were all either calculated or impulse, not random and just to get a reaction like Richie. Besides, he’s hardly ever around her when she takes things. Or so he hopes. He tries not to think about it too much — and no one ever mentions it to Stan — because then her feel like an accomplice to some small town crime ring consisting of the only ginger for hundreds of miles and the boy with the biggest glasses in the world.

Walking home alone always felt something like failure because walking home in the sun made him nauseous. Sometimes he would forget to eat for days on end, and occasionally it was on purpose. He wasn’t sure when or why it started, the feeling that he had no reason to be rewarding himself with food, the feeling that he was only him when he was hungry, but somewhere along the line it had stopped being “oh I forgot to eat lunch” to something more serious, something that sounded like “how the fuck are you possibly getting skinnier? Eds, you’re about to snap in half,” but really he didn’t mind hearing it.

Eddie shoved his ring pop into his backpack and continued walking, his eyes on the ground, head lowered. He thinks it might have come from his pediatrician telling his mother that he had gained some weight pretty quickly, and that it was completely normal for a growing boy but they need to be careful. Weight issues can often be hereditary. The fear of impending doom due to a dietary problem.

Right next to this stupid production of “Romeo and Juliet but, like, they jump off a cliff together instead of killing themselves separately, it’s way more romantic I think? Also if we’re gonna win we need to have something really interesting, right? So we should definitely have them about to go take a forever nap in the quarry. Half-naked shots in movies usually help them win awards!” and the whole Richie Situation, his mind was almost always focusing on how he was eating and how he was treating himself — and usually that meant not eating.

The Richie Situation was something that he knew he’d need to address at some point, but he probably wasn’t going to. It consisted of person A (Richie) sneaking into person B’s (Eddie’s) house nearly every night in order to listen to music crackling on the radio and lay next to each other. Typically, sleeping wasn’t something that happened for more than a few hours when this happened. They had this sort of set up for a while now, but only recently had Eddie expressed the fact that he had never been kissed during one of their late night talks and suddenly his lips are constantly occupied by Richie’s, as was his bed.

The interactions had always made his face become bright red and left his stomach feeling very full. There was a certain security in the fact that they both knew that nothing serious would ever come of this, it was just two best friends sharing a bed and kissing a lot all the time. Richie couldn’t possibly commit to having a relationship that lasted more than a few days. Besides, there had to be something — or the beginning of something — between Bev and him. You can’t just fake that kind of passion. It’s nearly impossible, but Richie was full of impossibilities.

The sun had gone down by the time he got home, and it was a sort of comforting coolness to know that his mother wasn’t home yet. When he entered the house, he saw a note attached to the back of the door and read it with raised eyebrows. The handwriting was messy and in sharp cursive, not especially different from his own handwriting.

_Eddie —_

_I have to work the night shift today so I won’t be able to see you until tomorrow morning. There are leftovers in the fridge for dinner._

_Xoxo, Mommy_

 

There was a little heart drawn next to her sign off and Eddie rolled his eyes at the signature. He crumbled up the note and tossed it into the tiny wastebasket next to the door. The light of the kitchen was still on, illuminating a freshly cleaned counter. The smell of chemical-based lemon cleaner and the sound of buzzing lightbulbs was almost enough to make him completely detest entering the sacred kitchen that his mother held so dear to her, but what drew him in was the more foreign noise.

It hadn’t been loud, just the sound of the fridge closing. Eddie entered, armed with the letter opener kept on the entry table, standing in the doorway. When he saw who was at the fridge, he let out a relieved breath and sat the glorified knife down. “Fucking Christ, Richie! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

The audible gasp that came from Richie as he whipped around was almost enough to make him forgive him, watching as he dropped, then caught, a can of Coke.

“Eddie! Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that! And- hey! Take your shoes off, young man! Were you raised in a barn? You’ll track dirt in.” Richie laughed that obnoxious laugh of his and suddenly Eddie remembered why he should be mad at him for being in his house.

“How’d you get in here?” He asked, genuinely curious. Richie shrugged, waving his hand as if gesturing towards the stairs. “You never lock your window, Eds.”

That would be incredibly intimidating if it weren’t for the fact that it’s Richie and Richie is hardly capable of doing anything violent with the knowledge that he could always find a way into the house. “Okay, then why are you here?”

“You’re not excited to see me!? I’m hurt! I thought I was your one true love! Your sun, your stars, the Brad to your Janet!” His hand was pressed dramatically to his chest and his voice was on the tipping point of a British accent, just barely Beatles enough to let him notice.

“Oooooh, okay. Beverly told you to fuck off then.” Eddie nodded, walking past Richie to the fridge, grabbing his own can of Coke and opening it. His back leaned against the door, one of Richie’s hands was pressed next to his head.

“I wanted to see you.”

“It feels like we keep running into one another.”

Richie grabbed his wrist with a certain softness, raising his hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to Eddie’s fingertips. “You’re biting your thumb at me, sir.”

Eddie felt his heart lurching forward, his stomach suddenly full of stones and his cheeks warm. The few freckles he had scattered on his face were even more prominent when he blushed. “Hey, Richie?”

Richie raised his eyebrows in response.

“Be ruled by me. Forget to think of her.”

“Oh! Teach me how I should forget to think!” He couldn’t help but smile.

“By giving liberty unto thine eyes. Examine other beauties.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve ever had, Spaghetti Head.”

“That’s not your line, Trashmouth.”

Richie, in form of a response, leaned in and kissed Eddie. It never stopped feeling like fireworks, he guessed. It never stopped being amazing. Fingers were lost to loose curls and glasses were removed, the sun set, the buzzing of lights was drowned out by the pounding in his chest.

Eddie wasn’t sure when, but eventually they ended up on his bed, laying next to one another.

“Do you wanna go see Encino Man? That guy from MTV is supposed to be in it.”

“Is Bev gonna be there?” Eddie turned his head to look at Richie, who looked over at him as well.

“Nah, she has to clean her apartment.” Eddie smiled and nodded.

“I’d love to go then.” Richie narrowed his eyes from behind his glasses, his expression untraceable.

“Ever since we started the movie it seems like you hate her. Did you wanna play Juliet or something? We can probably make it happen but I think it’s a little forward.” Eddie was surprised at Richie. How can someone be so oblivious?

“Let’s go see the movie.”

“Eds-“

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie was already getting up, searching through his drawers until he found some money in one of his drawers. He heard Richie moving on the bed and by the time he turned around, their lips had already collided again and he had let go of his money out of surprise. It felt like his body was stuttering, but soon enough he grabbing the dresser, pushing forward so that he wasn’t jammed against the handles constantly.

When Richie pulled away, since he was always the one to do it first, he had to readjust his glasses. “Who’s the better kisser?”

Richie stopped for a moment, thinking and then letting a smirk spread across his face. “Your mother’s the best kisser I’ve ever met.”

Eddie let out an exasperated noise, pushing Richie and stepping around him after collecting his money from the floor. “You’re buying the popcorn.”


	3. Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a double-feature of mediocre movies, Richie and Eddie have a conversation about Bev. Richie is very bad at being low-key.

Edward Kaspbrak could have lived a thousand lives without having seen Encino Man and absolutely nothing would change. The movie was a waste of time and money, despite the free food and drink thanks to Richie — although Eddie couldn’t stomach more than a handful of the over buttered popcorn. Sure, it was nice to see Sean Astin in something again, but it really didn’t make up for the awfulness that is the movie.

The only good thing about Encino Man was that it didn’t seem especially funny to Richie either. In fact, for most of the movie he sat in pensive silence. His knee bobbed, as it always did when he had to sit still for long periods of time, and when Eddie glanced at him he noticed how tightly drawn his expression seemed. The movie finally came to an end and the two of them walked wordlessly out of the theater, having tossed away their popcorn and empty cup of Coke. Eddie wanted to know what was wrong with him, but when he had finally formed the words they wouldn’t come out, rather being replaced by Richie’s own voice.

“I think I’m gonna leave Derry after we finish the play.”

It took a minute for the words to really get to him, for him to understand what they meant in context of the situation. “Okay.” It seemed an appropriate response and was met by a pause from Richie, who then proceeded to the exit and walked back to his car. Richie had never brought up wanting to leave Derry before, that was usually Eddie’s part in conversations about he future. Richie had always seemed content with staying here forever after doing a little traveling, to marry a woman and raise his kids in Derry with a nice, normal life in which he would become just like his father. Supportive, kind, slightly removed, and wealthy enough to support a family without having to worry about his wife keeping a job.

Over the many years that they had known each other, there had only been a few brief instances in which Eddie actually got to speak to the famous Maggie Wilds (later Tozier), and every time he did he only wanted to talk to her more. The woman had an endless well of stories that she could tell about her life, and by all accounts everything she said was true. She was a problem child, raising hell until the early hours of the morning, and then one day she met Mr. Wentworth Tozier and all of her problems just seemed to go away. He was older, of course, but only by about ten years and she had originally intended on breaking it off with him after the first few months, but her family had finally come to like who she was being and who she was with, so she stuck around and they got married. It was nice for the first few years, she had Richie only about six months after the wedding, and she loved him of course but sometimes it was a little much.

For a while, Richie was her pride and joy and she couldn’t be happier with him, but when he got older and started developing a sense of humor that was outside of her comprehension, she didn’t understand who her son was. She wanted to be there for him, because she adored him, but it was difficult when she didn’t know what he was talking about half the time. They have their good days, but most of them are spent in an agreeable silence. She wants the best for him after all, but something artistic or comedy-based wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. A lot of the time when she told this story, Maggie was drunk and holding onto the counter for support while her other hand was wrapped around Eddie’s. “Take care of him for me, will you? He’s going to make a complete fool of himself, I know he is, but I need to make sure he’s okay.”

Eddie liked Mrs. Tozier quite a lot.

The drive home from the movies was accented by the sharp pop of static from the radio in an otherwise quiet song. The music was peppy and swinging, but not especially uplifting at the moment. Eddie’s heart hung low in his stomach as he thought about it, about how Richie would leave him and he’d probably be stuck here forever in the grip of his mother. Right when it was starting to sting his eyes, Richie spoke up again.

“I’m thinking New York. You said you wanted to go there, right? It’ll be cool. And then I think I wanna go to California or Washington or something, there’s a ton of fucking great music out of Seattle. Nirvana? The band I showed you? They’re from there.”

Richie had never had any intention of going to college of any kind, only hoping to make it big on the things he knows how to do: be funny and play the guitar. Seattle and New York seem like good ideas for this plan, of making it big somewhere. Maybe he could find some startup group that needs someone on bass, or he could get on a spot on SNL for a season and work up from there. He had no idea for the time being, but maybe this could be his big break.

“You want me to come with you?” Eddie asked, surprised and unsure of the outcome. No one had ever asked him to go anywhere, let alone across the country.

“No shit, Eds! That’s why I told you first. If I didn’t wanna take you I would’ve just left a note or called you from some bus stop a thousand miles away.” This felt like a victory in some ways, and he couldn’t help but be absolutely ecstatic about it.

“That’s the best idea you’ve ever had, Trashmouth.”

The night was spent in the living room watching Richie’s personal favorite non-horror movie: Fast Times at Ridgemont High. There were loud bouts of shouting about how likely something was or wasn’t to happen, mostly surrounding the part where, well, every part actually. Richie wants to argue that Linda is absolutely telling the truth about her boyfriend and Eddie argues back about her obviously lying, the scene in which Brad forgets to lock the door, the weird literal wet dream with a pool, and the fact that Spicoli completely conquered his intellectual issues. It’s ridiculous, but it’s better than Encino Man and Eddie actually wouldn’t mind seeing it again. At the very least, wasn’t the worst.

Eddie had sat with his legs on the couch and Richie laying across him with his head resting on his chest. Eddie had casually brushed through curls for the entirety of the movie and by the end, he was practically asleep, having to lift his head again every few minutes when he realized he had nearly fallen asleep.

“I think Bev’s embarrassed of us.” Richie interjected over the end-credits, glancing up at an Eddie who was suddenly awake again.

“What makes you think that?”

“She has a boyfriend. Have you ever even seen her with him? She’s trying to keep it a secret.”

“How would you know if it’s a secret?”

“They were the people making out a few rows in front of us.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows, impressed by how observant Richie was of the room. “Oh.” Richie looked like he wanted more, so he continued. “I- I mean... I’d probably keep it a secret too. No one really wants to introduce their boyfriend to their all-male friend group, especially when she has to kiss one of them on camera constantly.”

“It’s shitty not telling us though.”

“I guess. It’s not really our business though, is it?”

“I’m supposed to be her best friend. I should know these things. I looked into it. His name’s Ben, he sat behind me in statistics last year. He lost weight.”

“Good for him.”

“Why is this only a big deal to me? You’re acting so nonchalant.”

“I’m not in love with her. I don’t care who she’s dating as long as they’re not a terrible person.”

Richie sat up, eyes sharp. “You think I’m in love with her?”

Eddie shrugged, illuminated by the humming television. “You act like you are.”

“I have to act like that. I thought you wanted us to be, y’know, low-key. I didn’t realize you wanted me to go shout from the rooftops that I’m in love with you. I can do that if you want me to.”

“You’re a hypocrite if you think we can be low-key and she can’t. And besides, I just don’t want everyone to find out. I don’t care if Stan and Bev know. It’s not gonna change anything. They already know about me.”

“So you wanna tell them then?”

“Sure. Maybe Bev’ll come clean if we do. We can go on a double date, plus Stan and that girl he’s been talking to.”

“Yeah. Yeah okay. Sure. Yeah. We can, uh. We can tell them tomorrow.”

“Great.” Eddie yawned, pushing Richie off of him before climbing upstairs. He brushed his teeth and laid down in bed, next to an already bundled up Tozier. Eddie rolled onto his side and looked at him. Richie looked back. “Just don’t go crazy telling everyone, okay? The last thing I need is to be hunted down and shot with a paintball gun when I’m trying to walk home.”

“Have faith in me, Eddie! I’ll be super calm about it. No biggy.”

Eddie Kaspbrak did not, under any circumstances, believe a single word Richie had said to him. And he, for the most part, had good reason not to.


	4. What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks

The way in which light cascaded through the high stained glass windows to press warmly onto the empty pews was almost enough to make him feel like everything was going to be okay. He was sat in the exact middle of the room, legs curled up near his chest as he leaned on the side of the pew, flipping through the pages of the script for Romeo & Juliet, crossing out lines with careful ink-work from his black pen. The ink always came out so smoothly and it was satisfying to make perfect little boxes that he could color in with the pen and highlight the rest. Notes scribbled in rushed, but never smudged, handwriting over, but never further than, the lines it was dictated towards.

The synagogue was the only place he could find a private space anymore, especially ever since he became better friends with the others and was occasionally asked to hang out outside of their filming schedule. There was a pleasant sort of quiet in the vast space, a light layer of dust sprinkled over everything from the old ceiling that was only cleaned once a month. The silence was only broken by the sound of writing or scribbling, the click of a pen, the capping and uncapping of the lid on a neon yellow highlighter. Stan had to brush the hair out of his eyes, squinting slightly as the early afternoon sun became covered again by thick rain clouds. There was a soft pounding of droplets against the window, the pattering of water comforting him as he opened his personal notebook, doodling a sparrow in the form of taking a break from editing scripts.

There was always a pleasant feeling in his chest on days like this.

Stan decided to get going, he told Bev that he’d get lunch with her before they filmed and he wanted to leave before the rain got too bad and he got stuck inside all day. At some point, he always needed to go outside or to sit at an open window for a few hours. It was hard to be someone who didn’t see the sun for days, he needed time to sit beneath the large beech tree that stretched it’s limbs and luscious bright green leaves over his tiny backyard and the edges of the porch. Stan piled his books and put away his highlighters and pens into his pencil case, taking long strides to the arching front door and out to his car. The ‘83 VW Rabbit served him well, a sweater, filming supplies, and backpack of essentials in case he needed to leave in a hurry all stored in the backseat being joined by his notebooks and pencil case before he clipped himself into the seatbelt and pulled out of the parking lot.

Water dribbled down the windshield as he waited outside of Beverly’s apartment building, watching as she pulled open the door and took a seat next to him. He pulled away from the curb and she practically shook with giddiness as she tossed her shirt in the back and pulled his sweater over her head.

“So Ben was as great as I told you he was?” He asked as she folded over the back of his button-up for him.

“Yes absolutely! He was so cute and nice and polite and he gave me his jacket in the theater and payed for my movie. We like the same movies and he had all of these tapes with good music on them. I really like him Stan. Like, _really, really_ like him. I can’t believe I never knew that he goes to our school. We had a class together last year and I never even realized because he sat in the very, very front and I was all the way in the back with Richie. God, it was amazing. I don’t get how you knew him though.”

Stan smiled warmly, excited for his friend. Debatably, and sort of silently, he and Beverly were better friends with each other than they were with anyone else, even within their small group. “We had history together, and I saw him down at the library one time when I was making copies of the script. We talked, he asked about you. I thought you guys would get along.”

Bev giggled wildly, and Stan couldn’t help but giggle too. Every minute with her felt like a trillion seconds of joy being pushed into his life. “So did you guys just see the movie?”

She bit her lip playfully, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “We may have _kissed_ a little too. I mean, don’t tell him or anything, but he’s a way better kisser than Richie.”

Stan nearly threw his head back in laughter. He was indescribably happy for Beverly and Ben, and it was a little satisfying knowing that they had another secret between them, kept for now without the knowledge of the others. He pulled into the parking lot of Wendy’s and the two climbed out of the car, rushing for the door of the fast food place.

 

  
When Richie woke up, he found himself in an empty bed with his glasses on the bedside table and his hair a mess. His arms had been spread wide against the sheets and it took a moment for him to work through the stiffness in his muscles. The rain drummed against the window and just enough light had broken through the crowds to hit him directly in the face. He grumbled something incoherently and turned his head to the other side, closing his eyes again and trying to get back to sleep.

Where was Eddie?

The question was almost answered by the soft radio playing downstairs, someone humming along with the song as they climbed the stairs. The wood didn’t creak though, so he was lead to believe it was Eddie rather than his mother, which was a correct assumption as the shorter of the pair entered the bedroom and raised his eyebrows at Richie. “Are you planning on sleeping all day? We have to meet them at the quarry in an hour and you need to brush your teeth and eat. I already went and bought you gum so your breath won’t be unbearable when you kiss Bev.”

He was starting to sound a lot like Richie’s mother, minus the part about the gum for better kissing ability. If Maggie Tozier knew half the things her son and his friends did she’d roll over in her pre-dug, alcohol scented grave. Eddie was supposed to be “taking care” of her son, not dragging him off to dangerous and exciting places for the sake of doing something fun while they wait around for Derry to change. This was no place for a revolution, despite how much some people (read: Bev) want it to be. There was always a rebellious streak with her, probably having started when the rumors in middle and high school started about her. A change needed to happen and she was going to be the one who caused it.

Richie slowly picked himself up and pushed on his glasses, giving a little morning-breath kiss to Eddie’s forehead as he walked past him to the bathroom down the hall, brushing his teeth and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Eddie went back downstairs and continued braiding his mother’s yarn together until Richie was ready to leave, as accented by a hefty kiss mid shoe tying. They dashed to the car in the rain and poured out of the driveway, racing on down the street just about 20 mph above the speed limit on a residential road in 1992.

 

  
The set of pairs met up at the quarry at exactly 12:00 pm, camera covered carefully in a number of rain-proof plastics and a few towels, Richie and Bev’s clothes stripped away frantically before rushing to a safe place on the rocks. They all had to admit that Beverly looked rather spectacular mostly naked and soaked in rain, small streams running down her sides and swirling balls of clear slipping off of her curled red hair. Her chest was pressed to Richie’s middle, the crest of her shoulders hitting where his nipples were.

Richie spoke clearly after Stan announced action! “How oft when men are at the point of death have they been merry, which their keepers call a lightning before death! Oh, how may I call this a lightning?—O my love, my wife.” This was played out to be a much more serious scene, less dramatic than the original play. This was the point of no return, a breaking point for the two.

Beverly continued where Romeo would typically pick back up. “Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. Thou art not conquered. Beauty’s ensign yet is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, and death’s pale flag is not advancèd there.”

“Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favor can I do to thee, than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain to sunder his that was thine enemy. Forgive me, cousin.—Ah, dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous, and that the lean abhorrèd monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour?” Their fingers were tangled together.

“For fear of that, I still will stay with thee, and never from this palace of dim night depart again. Here, here will I remain with worms that are thy chamber maids. Oh, here will I set up my everlasting rest, and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss.” Their fingers released and Richie placed a hand on Bev’s cheek, being sure to leave enough room to see most of her face.

“A dateless bargain to engrossing death.” Richie sealed the scene with a kiss, one with all of the passion and might that he could muster, being matched by Bev in both but beaten in ferocity. They were so able to play the doomed star-crossed lovers desperate to be together, and as he watched, Eddie’s heart began to ache. The intensity with which Bev used to grip Richie by the hair made his blood sputter and arm slipped around her wet waist made his stomach drop.

When Richie pulled away, he held her hand again, gesturing to the cliffs edge as he spoke. Stan stood with held breath behind the camera, his palm pressed to his lips as he waited for them to finish the scene. “Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide. Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy seasick, weary bark.” Richie glanced behind him, letting go of her hand as he picked up a bottle before grasping her fingers once more. “Here’s to my love!” A heavy swig, then handed to Bev, who also partook in the drink.

She nearly laughed, and Stan didn’t even twitch. The scene felt better with the laugher. “O true apothecary, thy drugs are quick.”

Richie nodded, and the two turned towards the edge. “Thus with a kiss I die.” There was an approach, steps taken in perfect unison, a pause, and then a final step off the rocks. Stan let the camera roll for another few seconds. Then shut it off and ran to the side, glancing down and seeing that Richie and Bev were already swimming back to the shore.

“Eddie, remind me to kill myself if I don’t get a scholarship for this.”


	5. Where Civil Bloods Makes Civil Hands Unclean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie’s gonna lose it also there’s a joking mention of past bjs so yknow. Be warned if that bothers you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Addressing the weird writing style shift that I noticed but I’m not sure if others will: this chapter, after a certain point, is almost entirely from Richie’s perspective and he’s not great at articulating himself like Stan and Eddie can so yeah. Bye. Love, Grass.

As he stepped inside his house, it was the first time that Eddie’s chest didn’t feel tight. His mother had attached another note to the entry table.

_Eddie,_   
_Angela is having her baby_   
_so I told them I would come_   
_in and cover for her. Call_   
_me when you get home._   
_Love, mommy_

Eddie almost smiled at the note, walking into the kitchen and grabbing their wall phone before dialing his mom’s office number. When she answered, he cleared his throat. “Hi mommy.”

“Eddiebear! Sweetheart! You’re home early, aren’t you? Ohhh I wish I was there! It’s been too long since I’ve gotten to speak to you in person! Did you take your medication this morning, sweetheart?”

“Yes mommy.” He lied, it had been weeks since he had taken any kind of medication. “And I took it at lunch.” He hadn’t eaten lunch. “And I’m going to take it before dinner.” He probably wouldn’t eat dinner. Not an actual one at least.

“Now that’s my Eddie! Oh- oh. Oh dear. Eddie, sweetie, mommy’s gotta go now. We’re having a little bit of an emergency so don’t worry about me. I love you, I’ll see you when I get home. There’s food in the fridge and cereal in the cabinet. Night night, honey!”

“Bye mommy.” Sonia hung up the phone before her son could, and he still managed to feel so free even after having spoken to her. Eddie grabbed a package of cherry tomatoes and climbed the stairs with them in hand.

He laid down on his bed and began eating them, looking out at the setting sun just beyond the tree-line. Suburbia was a pleasant place when you didn’t need to concern yourself with the rest of the world. His tomato eating relaxation in near silence was broken by the sound of a rumbling car, a sound he’d recognize anywhere. Richie was here. He nearly rolled his eyes hard enough for them to get stuck looking into the back of his head.

Eddie slowly pushed himself up from the bed and walked over to the window, watching with raised eyebrows as Richie held a boom-box over his head. This pushed him over the edge, pulling one of the best scenes in cinematic history from the movie they saw on their first “date”. This was going too far.

“Richie, get back in your car! You’re not John Cusack, you’re never gonna be John Cusack!” Richie seemed disappointed, raising the boom-box higher.

“But you love Say Anything!” There was a pause, Eddie looked expectant. “And I love you!”

His stomach dropped to his knees as he held onto the window frame. “The only person you love is yourself, asshole! All you ever do is fucking hurt people who care about you and I’m sick and tired of it!”

Richie’s confident expression dropped and he instantly put down the boom-box, hopping off the car and climbing up the side of the house as fast as possible, which was pretty quickly considering how he did it nearly every night. “You’re not tired of it, you think it’s cute and endearing.”  
“No, Richie, I fucking don’t. It’s not cute and it’s not endearing, it’s annoying and upsetting. You make me feel... things and I hate it! You are in love with Bev, you know you are, I’d feel so much better if you just admitted it! We finished filming, we just have to go see the final result. After that, I don’t want to see you for the rest of summer! It’s fucking summer I should be enjoying myself and not worrying about pleasing you and making sure you’re still willing to be... something with me! You make me feel so useless and I’m not letting you do that anymore.”

Richie was lost for words, only being able to stare up at Eddie and trying to form the words necessary to express how he felt.

“Get away from my fucking house. I’m gonna find someone who actually cares about me for a little while. Having a great fucking summer, Richie.” With that, he slammed closed his window and pulled the shades tight, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

It took three days for Eddie to come out of his house again, and it was only so that he could watch the final film with the others. The hood of his hoodie was up and his jeans were tucked into ox blood boots. It looked like an outfit Beverly would wear if she was leaving her apartment. In fact, she was wearing something very similar to him, arriving with her arm wrapped around Stan, the two laughing wildly before he began setting up the projector. They both seemed especially distanced from Eddie and Richie’s situation, but Stan didn’t seem to react the way Bev did to the tension between them.

Richie felt hurt by the physical affection between Bev and Stan, this was all just so strange. He was rejected by Bev, saw her with a different boy, was rejected by Eddie, and now she’s just hanging all over Stan all the time? What the fuck is happening to this town? Does no one have any taste anymore?

The screening went well. In their production, they had cut out all of the characters besides Romeo and Juliet for simplicity’s sake, the general lack of people necessary, and to add to the atmosphere of how they only saw each other in a room full of people. There was only a single scene in which there was someone other than them, and it was the very end after the jumped off the cliff and Stan had walked towards the edge after them. He hadn’t shut off the camera he thought he did, but he kept it in. It felt very unlike Stan to suddenly change something so distinct about this.

The car ride to go get lunch afterwards was strange, it had only been days since Eddie and Richie had been so close together but it felt like years that they had spent apart. They sat in the backseat of Stan’s car, both dancing, along with Bev, to the song on the radio — Tina Turner, a lovely woman, boomed over the radio about being in love and dancing with the person you love. The song would never really hit until he was home, but he wasn’t home right now. He was with his friends and whatever Eddie was.

They pulled into the parking lot of the shittiest local diner in all of small-town-ville which was simply named Derry’s Finest, a lie if he had ever seen one. They climbed out of the car and Richie had taken brief notice of the stock pile of Bev’s clothing in the back. — What the fuck Stan? — The diner ended up being just as run down on the inside as it was on the outside, accented by a waitress who sounded like she smoked two packs a day, but the boy behind the counter was cute. They all ordered celebratory milkshakes except for Eddie, who went up to Mr. Cute Guy and started talking to him. They looked like they knew each other, but Richie had no idea how.

He was tall and lanky, just a little shorter than himself, with soft looking brown hair and big blue eyes and a weird tan-ish complexion that was nothing really worth seeing. Eddie was sort of digging low into the pile now that they were apart, huh? What a loser this guy was. He had a stutter too! Who likes a guy with a stutter? Non-stutter-ers are the superior subspecies compared to stutter-ers, and that’s just a fact! No jealously in that one!

Stan eventually got around to looking over and smiled softly, waving a hand as he and Eddie approached the table again. “Hi, Bill.”

“H-hey St-St-Ssss-f-fucking Christ- Stan!” Eddie smiled endearingly. He found this endearing? Really? This is who he decided to go after now that Richie suddenly wasn’t good enough for him? Bullshit.

“Working today?” Eddie sat back down, Stan watched as Bill shrugged. “E-everyday I g-guess.” Up close, he wasn’t even that cute.

“S-so can I get you g-guys something to st-st-start with?” He had a little apron with a pocket tied around his waist and from it he pulled a little notepad and a pen. Eddie got fries, everyone else got some combination of burgers and fries before handing over their menus. He turned — physically turned, what an asshole — towards Eddie before he left. “I’ll g-get that out as f-f-fast as p-possible.” And their hands touched when Eddie handed back his menu.

Once Bill was out of sight, Richie couldn’t stand it anymore. “ _Woooow_ Eddie, really impressive. You can flirt with the guy who can’t even say his own name, what a fucking upgrade.”

“Don’t be a dick, Richie. He’s _nice_.” Bev seemed to nod in agreement at this, which made him want to slam his head on the table as hard as possible. “Y-yeah I’m sh-sh-sure his d-d-dick is worth it, E-E-E-E-Ed-d-die.”

Eddie forgot just how similar Richie can sound to the guys who bullied them years back. It made his blood boil and his grip on drink tighten. “You have an ugly dick.”

“That’s not fucking true.”

“I’m sorry you’ve seen-“ Bev was cut off by Stan placing a hand on her arm, wanting to watch this. “It is true. You have an ugly, tiny dick and you know it. Why the fuck else would you want the lights off all the time.”

“Go suck a dick, Kaspbrak.” Richie stood up in disgust, speed-walking towards the bathrooms. Eddie turned and yelled after him: “I already have!”

Great. This was a great way to begin the last two weeks of summer vacation.


	6. parting is such sweet sorrow (p.2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG YIKES ON THIS ONE BOYS EDDIE IS HAVING A B R E A K D O W N literally this is the scene from Inside Out you’ll know it when you get there.
> 
>  
> 
> I made a playlist???? For this????? Idk I’m still tweaking it. Some are atmospheric, some are very clearly for a certain character.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/jgrace063/playlist/542mdl7hI4KKyWIlq4Q7UN?si=uzurD5iJRwWydlqwaWUcEQ
> 
> Have at it. Tear me apart. New chapter for fifth kind is comin soon too if you’re interested in that one (fucking fight me I love the Phoenix lights)
> 
> Lil Dicky and Nirvana are Richie’s true loves I stg — speaking of Richie, he really really really wants to be a musician and if you were Felix you would know how that works out (very well until the dust rolls in lmao ——— stan is also a dealer whoops buy your coke from him he doesn’t lace that shit)
> 
> El Scorcho is the mood for this fight me honey
> 
> Lovingly, Grass

At first, flirting with Bill had only been used in order to make Richie jealous. He would never admit it out loud of course, because he knew that Bev would be mad at him and Stan would just nod and sink into his head again. But sometimes he felt like he was leaning a little too far into the comfort of Bill and how blatantly nice he was.

Sometimes when he looked into Bill’s eyes, he saw himself reflecting back. And sometimes that just meant he wished it were Richie looking at him because if he knew one thing, it was that Richie Tozier’s eyes were too dim for anything to be seen in them. They didn’t shine or sparkle, they would glow dully in the light of street lamps in dark bedrooms under warm sheets with cold air blowing towards them. Nothing sparkled on Richie the way everything sparkled on Bev, the way Stan knew everything, the way Bill smiled. There was hope in it, definitely, and it was something strange to see.

The last day of Summer felt like a plastic bag being tied around his throat. It had started easy: get up, get dressed, brush his teeth and hair, eat an apple, then dash out the door. But this time, there was no Bill to pick him up to go on some exciting adventure, no Bev to go shopping, no Richie for bullshitting — but there was never any Richie anymore. He had heard from Bev, who had been hanging around Richie a lot more, that he was playing his guitar and slamming drums and wearing contacts and screaming the words to songs that played too loud in the first place. He was very good at playing the guitar and yelling at his mom about being young, apparently.

He had called Richie’s house in order to apologize three days ago and Bev had answered. The cheeriness in her tone made his skin crawl, especially with the way that he could hear Richie having one of those famous arguments with his mother in the background followed by a slamming door and a soft “ _baby? who’s_ _on the phone?_ ” It made his heart stop. “He’s like the next Kurt Cobain or something! He’s amazing Eddie, you gotta hear him sometime.” He would never admit it but he’d punched the doorframe so hard he bruised his knuckles after he hung up the phone. It felt like a very Richie thing to do and he was disappointed in himself afterwards.

Eddie left his home that last day of summer on a skateboard that Richie had supposedly gotten for him for his birthday a year and a half ago, but he was fairly certain he had just stolen it and been too nervous to keep it in his house. He had a tendency to do that. A tape in his Walkman that had been given to him by Bev when she decided his taste in music was shit, the Walkman shoved into the pocket of his overalls as he rode along the sidewalk, diving and dipping out of the way of kids getting the last drops of freedom and old people walking their dogs. A sidewalk was only ever busy when you were on something inconvenient for others.

He wore a backpack, inside said backpack was all of the money he had been saving to buy a car, clothes, tapes, batteries, and a few others things that he had just impulsively thrown in there. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for him. If there was anyone he could tell about his plan, it was Stan. He placed his board on the porch and knocked softly on the door, being let in by Stan’s mother and sent down the hall with a smile. He reached the door with the sparkling knob and the words “the man” carved into it in Richie’s shitty handwriting.

Opening doors had only ever proven to be a bad thing for Eddie, but now what may lie behind them had become familiarly foreign to him. He knew what to expect, a closed door was never a good sign, but there was always a lingering sense of hope that it wasn’t his fault. It always felt like it was. _baby?_ The shocked expressIons and reaching fingertips made him more vacantly upset than anything else. _who’s on the phone?_ He could see the lip curl in his mind and he could feel the ghost wrapping it’s arms around him the way it used to, the way it did to her now. _baby?_ He had never seen Stan look so awake. The twitch of Bill’s previously occupied lips mixed with the “Eddie, wait-“ did not help at all. _who’s on the phone?_ “It’s cool.” Eddie shook his head nonchalantly. His heart was in his throat. He felt like he could cause a flash flood with how badly he wanted to cry. “I mean, I don’t mind. I get it.” _baby,_ “you guys seem really nice together.”

Stan nodded roughly and mechanically, it was unlike him. He felt so bizarre and far away in this haze. Eddie pulled his backpack forward and yanked open a zipper, grabbing a leather bound notebook and tossing it onto Stan’s lap. “I just wanted to give that back to you. You forgot it at my house yesterday. Uh- how long have you-“ Stan snapped into movement and set the notebook on the side table. God, Eddie felt terrible just standing there in the doorway. He’d interrupted them, and for what? It’s not like he gained any life changing information. It was just them sitting on a bed together, their knees touched and there was a hand lazily tossed across Bill’s thigh; they looked much nicer together than him and Bill, the height difference was too much and Stan had blue eyes, Blue and Brown went much nicer together than Brown and Brown.

“Couple weeks.” The response felt unnatural. “Three- four months. Something like that. I think.” He knew exactly how long it had been to the day.

“Stan.”

_baby, who’s on the phone?_

“Five months. Almost six, five months, 26 days. I didn’t want to tell any of you.”

“I think Richie and Bev are sleeping together so I’m not sure what happened to your friend Ben.”

“Eddie, don’t... don’t tell Bev please.”

“Pussy.”

_Baby Who’s On The Phone?_

“Eddie-“

 _BABYWHOSONTHEPHONEBABYWHOSONTHE_ _PHONEBABYWHOSONTHEPHONEBABYWHO_ _SONTHEPHONEBABYWHOSONTHEFUCKIN_ _GPHONE_

“Sorry. I have to go meet my mom at her office, I’ll see you later Stan. Bye Bill.”

Stan waved slightly and Bill only looked like a deer in headlights as Eddie closed the door and left to the porch, grabbing his board and riding quickly down the sidewalk. He sort of wished he wiped out on the hill he went down.

 _BABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABYBABY_ -

Eddie had no concept of when exactly he got on the bus, only that he must have at some point. He only knew because his tape had ended and he blinked into consciousness, switching it out and looking down at his ticket. Huh. Good destination choice, subconscious suddenlyconscious Eddie.

At the first instance that he could, Eddie climbed off the Greyhound and found a payphone, making a call to Derry, Maine.

“Mort’s Morgue, you stab ‘em we slab ‘em, this is Richie speaking, how can I help?” It was so strange to feel nothing. “Hey.” He heard an inhale that would normally turn his heart over in a backflip, it was soft and small and crisp. “Eds, where the fuck are you? Stan said you came over and were acting really weird and then you just- you just fucking left!” In the background he heard a gasping  _is that eddie?! tell him im gonna kill him wh_ _en we find him!_

“Are you and Beverly together? Like, romantically. Is- are you dating?” Richie paused like he really needed to think about it, and maybe he did but Eddie wished he didn’t. “No.” He didn’t know if he could take talking to him anymore, but he didn’t want to hang up. It felt like the hours they had spent on the phone before, when Richie would fall asleep and Eddie would just listen to his breathing because then he didn’t feel so alone and crushed and disgusting. “Are you fucking her?” Richie was surprised by how blunt he was about it. “Eds-“

“answer the fucking question please.”

“Eddie.”

“Are you?”

“I mean- Eddie, it’s not like that.”

“Okay. What is it like then?”

Richie thought over the question and it was clear he was being hesitant with it. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah, the answer is yes. It’s exactly like that. It’s not my fucking fault though, you’re the one who fucking got mad at me and moved fucking on.”

“I fucking hate Nirvana and I hate Shakespeare and I hate that you’re blaming me for this and I hate that you call her baby, who the fuck do you even think you are? It’s like you don’t even think about other people! Do you know how weird that is for everyone else? Fucking everything is just going to shit and I’m supposed to sit idly by and watch it? Fucking you call her baby and play guitar for her and you’re just so fucking gross and your mouth tastes like cigarettes and I saw Stan making out with Bill and HOLY SHIT it’s like I don’t even fucking matter to anyone I could fucking drown myself in the fucking quarry and it would just be an inconvenience for you. Why doesn’t anyone ever fucking consider how I feel about things? It’s always about you, it’s always been about fucking you and now it’s about fucking her! Jesus fucking Christ man, get a grip on yourself! You can’t just keep pushing all of this down you’re not fucking into her you just fucking think you are because it’s easier than dealing with people you actually care about! And I keep thinking that maybe you’ll change but you never do and then I realize OH! OH SHIT! It’s MY FAULT because I forgot AGAIN that you DON’T FUCKING CARE ABOUT ANYONE BESIDES YOUR FUCKING SELF YOU SELFISH ASSHOLE!”

Eddie, at this point, was hyperventilating and the tears streaming down his cheeks came into frame, came into feeling.

“Eddie, where are you? I’m gonna come pick you up. Are you fucked up right now? I swear to God if you bought bad shit from the creepy Patrick motherfucker-“

“Fuck you.” He slammed the phone back onto the receiver and wiped his face viscously with his shirt, taking deep breaths and a puff from his bullshit aspirator. He got back onto the bus and sunk back into his music, closing his eyes, being eased to sleep by the rattling of the vehicle.

He awoke only when someone shook him, stepping off the bus and raising his eyebrows at the night sky. He had never been anywhere that he couldn’t see the stars before.


	7. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He’s back baby

Before now, Beverly Marsh had been kept blissfully unaware of what was going on between the boys in the group. Conversations were made between herself and Stan and he always very carefully avoided giving out any information, and Richie was no help with it either. Eddie leaving had been a surprise to her, but it was something she probably would have seen coming if she had known. She has never knowingly done anything to hurt any of the people she cares about, and she cares very deeply for all of them.

A great dread fell over their little group of friends when none of them were able to find Eddie in his usual spots, this dread only grew when he wasn’t at any of the unusual spots either. After a while, Bev had rolled her eyes and pushed Richie out of the way, leaning down and picking the lock on the front door. “It’s hot when you commit crimes.” Richie had laughed, and she glared at him as she walked inside. “Not the time, Rich.” When she dashed upstairs and he checked the basement, her heart was beating in her ears. His room was so clean, everything had been left perfect, like someone had just moved in.

The note on his bed read: _Sorry mom_

While the note on the outside of the window read: _I don’t know if you’ll find this, but if/when you do, I just want you to know one thing. This is your fault. I fucking hate you, Richie._

She managed to get Richie to come up from the basement to look at the notes with her, which lead to a panicked look on both of their faces.

—  
For a long time after getting off the bus, Eddie just sat on a bench near the station. He listened to the sounds of traffic before getting on his board, racing down the sidewalk towards the busy streets.

This city was sort of nice, he had heard that New York was shitty, but it really wasn’t. Just big. He saw the sun shining above the buildings and got breakfast at a bagel place he had passed by only moments before. Taking a break outside of the shop and eating his bagel, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. When he checked his watch, it was 9:34 in the morning, which means he definitely spent quite a lot of time on that bench. He was fairly certain he had fallen asleep there anyhow. A Snapple in hand as he headed again, following the sound of someone playing a guitar on the street corner, turning on the bend that the guitar man stood on, then turning around to listen to him play instead.

He had never heard anyone play a David Bowie song acoustic simply because it sounded like it would be bad, like it wouldn’t have the same electric feeling. The boy on the street corner made him realize how wrong he was. Ziggy Stardust was made to be played acoustic, and it was excruciatingly obvious that this man was the one the play it.  
—

Eddie Kaspbrak has been missing for nearly 26 hours by the time he got his breakfast, having been reported missing back home and having signs already posted everywhere with his face on them. It was a picture Richie had taken of them when they were filming. None of them knew how underweight Eddie was until they put up the posters.

—  
“So how long have you been in New York for?”  
—

It has been nearly 28 hours since Eddie Kaspbrak went missing.

—  
“I’m not sure. A day I think? Some stuff happened at home and I just got on a bus and came here.” He shrugged. Eddie sat across from Mike, the guy who had been playing the guitar, at a Wendy’s. He ate a Frosty while Mike had chicken nuggets. “Seems nice though.”

Mike nodded. “It is if you know where t’be. Where’d you come from?” Eddie smiled and dipped a fry in his ice cream, much to the disgust of Mike. “Maine. Really small town called Derry, it’s like an hour away from Bangor.”

“Really? That’s where I’m from! I moved out here with my uncle after my grandpa died. I used to live with him. Hanlon farm?”

“We used to get our eggs from you guys! That’s cool. Sorry about your grandpa though. He was always really nice when we saw him.”

“Yeah, I miss him, but it’s cool. I like it here way more. Less hicks. When’re you going back?”

Eddie had to think about this before shaking his head. “I wasn’t planning on it, actually.” Mike looked surprised, carefully shaking his head, his lip twitched the way Richie’s did when he was trying to laugh. “I’ll put you on the bus if I have to. I’m not letting you stay here. Your mom and all your friends are back in Derry, you’d be ruining your entire life if you stuck around here.”  
—

“Okay.” Bev placed her hands on her hips, staring forward at the boys who sat in front of her — Bill, Stan, and Richie. “What the hell is happening here. Tell me. I’m tired of not getting to know what’s going on.”

“Bill and Stan are together. And Eddie wanted to get with Bill because he broke up with me and it was some stupid revenge thing.” Richie told her softly, being that they were all just sitting at their lunch table surrounded by hundreds of other kids. “And Eddie got mad because we got together after we broke up but we were never really together in the first place!”

Beverly rolled her eyes. “When did you two break up?”

“Like two weeks ago.” This made her pause, reel back, and slap him hard across the face. He shot up out of his seat. “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”

Bev matched his height by standing on her seat. “YOU DIDN’T THINK TO BREAK UP WITH HIM UNTIL _AFTER_ WE GOT TOGETHER? WHAT THE FUCK RICHIE?! NO WONDER HE HATES ME.”

Richie smiled weakly, deciding that the best course of action was to make her more upset at him. “You’re hot when you’re mad, baby.”

“HOLY SHIT I SEE WHY HE LEFT!”

—  
“It’s probably not even a big deal that I left. It’s not like I’m changing lives back home or anything.”

“But you’re supposed to be living one. People miss you, they’re killing themselves because you’re not there. Your mom’s probably losing her mind.”

Eddie nodded, finishing his food and making sure he got Mike’s number before leaving the Wendy’s. He rode up to one of the busier streets and looked around until he found the shittiest looking hotel, heading inside and asking how much a room was. He wasn’t planning on going home so quickly. New York was a big thing for him to give up.

He could afford a place for a few nights without burning all of his money away, so he decided to go upstairs and nap. The bed was comforting after having bus seats benches.  
—

Eddie Kaspbrak has been missing for 34 hours. Richie Tozier has spent the last nine hours explaining to people that no, Eddie didn’t kill himself and that yes, he’s going to be coming home very soon. Truthfully, he has no idea if he’s correct or not but he very much wants to be. Bev was mad at him all day after lunch and it was only resolved by the end of the school day after she and Stan had a private conversation in the library. Admittedly, Bev felt bad about having slapped Richie while, at the same time, wishing she would have actually punched him instead.

Richie wouldn’t talk to any of his actual friends about the situation, only the guys from his theater class that liked when he pulled stupid pranks and laughed at his problems because “It’s Richie! He’s fucking great, man!” And that was true but it didn’t mean he never had any issues.

Sonia Kaspbrak sat next to the phone all day eating away at her fingernails and answering the first time it rang every time it rang. She paced and paced and paced and slept on the couch in order to stay close to the phone in case it rang.

This level of activity among his friends continued for only a week, Bev busying herself with talking and Stan making cover page after cover page for his bullet journal and school notebooks.

Eddie Kaspbrak was found 179 hours and 33 minutes after he first went missing. He was reported as seen in Bangor, Maine getting off a Greyhound boarding an in-state bus.

Eddie Kaspbrak arrived at the bus station in Derry, Maine 180 hours and 22 minutes after he first went missing. He did not go home, he checked into a hotel, slept there for the night, and arrived at school a little bit after 190 hours of being missing. The first thing that happened upon arriving at school was a boy pushing him down and laughing “Where ya been, Kaspbrak? Ran away with one o’your faggot friends?” He stayed on the ground to keep himself stable, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared upwards at the boy, watching as people avoided them in his peripheral. He was hyperventilating but his expression was otherwise blank, the guy stared at him for a moment longer before disappearing into the crowd with his friends and Eddie scrambled to pick himself up.

Mike was wrong, he should’ve stayed in New York. He would turn around right now and go back to the busses if his legs would work but all he could do was stay stuck in the mud of the sidewalk, trying to regain his breath.

“Eddie?” He was able to snap out of his trance and turn his head, seeing Richie fast approaching with Beverly and Stan not too far behind. His heart flipped. His legs started working again and he raced inside the building, feeling a hand on his shoulder, crying out “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” And whipping his shoulder away before turning his head to see who it was.

There was no time between then and now, meaning he had no clue when it started, but suddenly he found himself practically sobbing onto the shoulder of Beverly Marsh. They brought him outside and down to Derry Park. He curled himself into a ball on the grass he and tried answer all of the questions he was asked. Who knew Derry was all he needed to let his emotions flow again, it was so strange to be empty all the time.

“So how was New York?” That was the first thing Richie had said to him since he returned. Eddie wiped his eye with his arm and tried to smile. “A lot like your house. Made for tall people.” Eddie didn’t forgive any of them for anything that had happened, despite how happy he was to see them and how loud his heart felt being near them. “I met this guy, Mike. He was playing Bowie on a street corner. I didn’t know Ziggy Stardust sounded good acoustic until I met him.”

Bev smiled warmly and patted his back. “Your mom’s gonna kill you and never let you leave the house again. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I think I’m okay with not leaving for a little while though.”


	8. Sick and Pale with Grief

Being friends with people who clearly didn’t care enough to tell you the truth got old very quickly. It’s not very hard to notice that they don’t care either, especially when you speak on the phone to your friend Mike from New York nearly every day and find yourself upset when you just have to see the friends back home instead of him. The only real person he could find comfort in — besides Beverly who made a conscious effort to hang out with him and ignore Richie upon hearing the full story of what had happened between the two — was Ben Hanscom, the boy that she had been interested in before Richie came along.

The first quarter of his junior year was spent in a library next to a growing-thinner boy with kind dairy cow eyes and a chipped front tooth, on the phone with the boy that no one was quite sure they believed exists, or on his bed next to Beverly as she explained exciting stories to him and taught him how to throw up “I mean, you’re tiny and gay. People are shitty and they’ll totally take advantage of you because of it.” It was a kind gesture, but the sentiment felt a little off. She ceased the conversation by going into detail about how the afternoon after Eddie had explained everything to her she was supposed to go to Richie’s and she did, but instead of ending in sweet little goodbyes and promises that he won’t be a piece of shit, an argument broke out almost immediately.

The whole ordeal had left him with a bruised hand and her with a nasty black eye. “It wasn’t on purpose or anything though! Don’t get me wrong! I’ve had people do it on purpose and they never respond like he did. He was trying to grab the door and I dived in the way because I didn’t wanna stop yelling at him.” It was a nice little something to laugh at for a while, but soon enough some changes were made around the house. Bev was allowed to come over so long as the door stayed open and he was allowed to have boys in the house so long as they were in the living room. Ever since his return from New York his mother had grown distant and somehow stricter, saying that he was to be no where besides school and home without her knowing and that he had to see a “private counselor” since his grades were slipping.

The “private counselor” was a woman named Martha and there was absolutely no studying happening. It was an odd mix between dancing around his “problems” and discussing what made him “act so irrationally” when he decided to run away. This woman would not take no for an answer even if it was said to her by the president, so eventually his shell started to crack — Martha had to stab at it first, but still, he eventually began to open up mostly on his own. On Eddie’s fourth day of attending these sessions, she decided to ask the question: “are you still in love with this Richie boy like you used to be?” And when Eddie took a moment to think, Martha nodded and wrote something down in her notes.

“Eddie, sometimes love can make us do... silly things.” She said “silly” like she meant to say “sick” but that could have just been in his head, his mother said that condescension he points out is just in his head and that she means for no harm to be done when she speaks. He wants to scream. “But we have to perceiver! You’re better than your romantic hang-ups and I promise you’ll be able to move on to the next young man — or woman — that comes along and interests you.” Eddie pressed his tongue to the corner of his cheek. “Martha, last time I was here you told me I should talk to him about our relationship and try to improve upon it, now you’re telling me I should just forget it and move on?”

She took in a breath. “Eddie?” He looked skeptical even slumped in his chair like he was. “Martha?” She looked like she hated seeing him. “Why don’t you accept the idea to ask questions in a different way?” He looked like he hated seeing her. “Why do you feel the need to question everything I feel?” “It’s my job. I need to help you get better.” “I thought I wasn’t sick. You said I was one of the lucky ones.” Martha had to pause, had to think about it for a moment, then sighed just a bit.

“A nice man I met once at a conference had told me something that you need to hear: we accept the love we think we deserve. If you don’t make these decisions on your own sometimes you’re never going to be able to get over this. This... this turmoil you feel, it’s not normal. It’s not typical. People don’t just go through breakups and hop on a bus and travel hours away for a week to discover yourself. Your friend? Mike? He was right when he told you that you need to be here, but that doesn’t mean he knows exactly what’s good for you.”

Eddie slumped further down in his seat, pushing his hand into his hair before a timer went off. In a matter of seconds he was out the door and practically dashing down to his mother’s car. When he reached the sidewalk, his mother was nowhere to be found, but rather an ‘83 VW rabbit with a girl in a too-big sweater and too-short shorts and too-messy hair looking at him from the drivers seat. Eddie climbed into the car silently, looking concerned instantly. “Hey, I was having a bad day. Decided to get you. Your mom already knows I was gonna pick you up anyways.” She swiped at her eyes with the heel of her palm before whipping away from the curb. He narrowed his eyes at her, he didn’t know she could drive.

“I was uh- I was talking to Richie earlier. Um, y’know we were kinda together for a lot longer than I had talked about and we were really close until you told me everything. I don’t know what to do anymore. I was- this is so stupid, but we were like... three weeks away from moving in together. I have all my shit at his house still because I don’t know how to ask for it back. I don’t wanna live where I live anymore and he was my only option and now I can’t even fucking do that because I can’t judge people based on their pasts because I’m supposed to be able to look forward and to not judge people even when I should.”

He had absolutely no indication from Richie about that kind of thing happening, but it sort of made sense considering how he hadn’t been able to go over to Richie’s in over a month. “Eddie, I like him so much. Why can’t he just be a person who’s not shitty all the time? I wouldn’t even care if he was with you, being not-shitty but I honestly don’t know how he lives like this. Why does he have to be an asshole?” Eddie had rarely had to deal with crying girls on his own, but crying girls with road rage going down the freeway at 86 mph was a little bit out of his realm of ability. He loved Bev, but that didn’t mean he was good at helping her at all.

“He likes to feel like he’s in control and when he doesn’t get to feel that way anymore he gets bored. He got bored of you so he went to me and he got bored of me so he went back to you. I mean, I’m pretty sure he and Stan had a thing for like three days and then he realized what was happening so he started dating Bill or whatever the fuck they’re doing.”

Beverly licked her lips as she turned down to the residential roads of Derry, only a moment away from Eddie’s home. “If I kick his ass and he hits me back, who gets in trouble for it?” She looked over at him, raising her eyebrows, and he smiled just slightly. “I think it’ll cancel out. Neither of you would go to the cops about it.” She nodded, pulling into his driveway. “If you hear on the news that a girl and a boy were found dead nearby, it’s us then. Later Eddie. Wear something cute tomorrow, I’ll pick you up for a party that Greta’s throwing. Y’know, when she pulls that chainsaw out of her ass she’s really pleasant to be around.”

He laughed through his nose and pushed open the door. “Bye Bev, call before you drive over.” He waved to her from the sidewalk as she pulled away from the curb, racing away. God, she was going to get herself killed in that car. He thought better of her than calling Stan to ask about whether or not she was actually allowed to take it.

“Tomorrow is going to be a better day.” Martha’s words flew through his mind as he headed inside. “We just have to be brave enough to believe that.”


	9. Does Now Deny to Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me????? Writing something I’m positive will genuinely piss off the people who read this??? Yeah

When Eddie Kaspbrak entered his home his mother was not there, and he sighed a breath of relief. He placed his jacket on the hook behind the door and raced upstairs, entering his bedroom and instantly gasping, jumping back and slamming into the wall. “Jesus FUCKING CHRIST RICHIE! How the fuck do you keep getting in here? I lock all of my shit!” Richie looked at him from his place on his bed and raised his eyebrows, pulling a key from his pocket and dangling it in front of Eddie. “I stole your spare when we were nine. Also I wanted my Gameboy. And I wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie straightened up, rubbing his back where he had fallen. “I’m not interested in talking get out of my fucking house.”

“Wait... you’re not over this yet? Eddie, it’s not a big fucking deal. I’m so sorry that I thought we broke up so I hooked up with Bev.”

“You two were together for months. She was fucking sobbing when she dropped me off a few minutes ago! You cheated on her with me and then you hit her when she was having an argument with her!”

“She was crying over me?” The inklings of a smile that Eddie found on Richie’s face made him want to throw up. “I didn’t know she cared that much.”

“Why wouldn’t she? You’re fucking disgusting. She is so fucking in love with you and for what? So she can be lead on? Do you have any concept of how hard it is to be in love with you? All you do is take things from people! We don’t get anything in return, you just talk to people and you keep doing the same shit to everyone and we all think it’s going to change and it never fucking is because you can’t grow up enough to think of a world that would be better without you fucking with everyone.”

“Eds, calm down.”

“Don’t call me that! You aren’t allowed to have cute fucking nicknames with me anymore. And before anything else I want to know: did you do it on purpose?”

“Did I do what?”

“Did you hit Bev on purpose?”

Richie looked absently at Eddie, glanced at the floor, and then looked at Eddie again. “She wouldn’t- I wasn’t... done... talking to her.”

“Great. That’s great. What a wonderful reason to punch a girl who you are dating in the face.”

“Woahwoahwoahwoahwoah! Hold on! Back up! We were never dating. It was more like... friends with benefits. I never asked her out, I don’t wanna date anyone besides you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Knowing that she meant literally nothing to you? SHE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

“That doesn’t mean I have to be in love with her. It’s not my fucking fault she feels like that. If anything it’s her problem, I thought she knew we weren’t technically a thing.”

“Richie, why do you think you’re better than everyone else? I genuinely want to know what makes you so special and above the rules.”

“I don’t think that at all.”

“Then why would you do that?!”

“She never gave me any indication that she felt any differently than I did! I thought we were on the same page! I told her when we started this whole thing that being with me is a bad idea!”

“You make me want to throw up. Get out of my fucking house.”

Richie stood up and shook his head, walking towards the door before turning to Eddie. “I’m gonna go talk to Bev.”

“You can talk to her at Greta’s party. She’s at home. Her dad would kick your ass.” He only nodded and headed out of the room, stomping down the stairs and slamming the front door. Eddie collapsed onto his bed the second the door slammed shut, exhausted after the conversation.

The ride to Greta Bowie’s house was going to be a strange one. Stan drove with Eddie slipping into the passengers seat, Richie whooping with laughter and Bev shrieking around her black eye. When Eddie glanced Stan’s way he only got a very empty and very sad look in response. They picked up Bill next, who lived surprisingly close to Eddie, and who slid in behind his boyfriend — if that’s what they were — causing Bev to get into the middle seat. An arm was almost instantly wrapped around her and the world suddenly tilted slightly too far.

“What the fuck did you do?” Stan asked, he calm voice shaking with anger as he casted a glance back at Richie. “Is she fucked up right now? Are we really doing this again, Richie?” Richie stared at Stan, his lip turned upwards.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stanley.” Bev cut in aggressively. “I’m not fucked up and even if I was it’s none of your business, Stan!” Accenting his name with a firm kick to the back of his chair. As he rocked forward, Bev sunk far down into her seat.

“Hey Bev, before I picked you up at Richie’s did you have anything to eat or drink?”

“Fuck off, I wouldn’t do that.”

Eddie stared wistfully forward, his heart pounding, praying that no one would hit their car. At the same time though, he sort of wished someone would. “You seem to do it a lot for someone who wouldn’t.”

Richie paused, then eased back into his seat, his arm growing tighter around Bev. “Hey Stan, remember that time a few months back when you went to the quarry and chugged those bottles of vodka and threw yourself off the edge down into the rocks?”

An explosion of “what?” in varying degrees seemed to go off from Eddie and the other two in the backseat. All traces of anger in Stan’s expression quickly faded away and he was left only confused. “How- how do you know about that?”

“I was on a date about fifty feet away. You kinda ruined it for me just so you know, it’s hard to have a good time after you yell ‘oh shit’ because one of your friends tried to fling himself off a cliff.” Stan looked anxious, he always looked anxious but he did now even more than usual as he turned back towards the road and put the car into drive, quickly heading away from Bill’s house.

“Do me a favor and stop bringing up my personal shit when I’m trying to talk to you. Do you think what happens to her doesn’t effect me too?”

“So anyways,” Bev broke through them loudly, deciding that she was tired of the conversation. “Have any of you ever actually been to a Greta party?” Eddie turned enough to look at her and shake his head no. “Okay well the first rule is that you should never go upstairs no matter what there’s a bathroom on the first floor so you don’t need to use the upstairs one. Just trust me okay. Aaand Eddie you probably shouldn’t go in the basement either. Basically just chill on the first floor and drink and have a good time. There’s usually cute boys there and a lot of them are Greta’s friend Sally’s friends and that means they’re all theatre and dance kids which means the majority of the boys are gay. So. Yeah.”

She paused, thinking it over. “Oh! And beware! Bowers is probably there. Well, Bowers and the twinky one and the others. And never agree to go anywhere with this blonde kid named Andrew. You will get absolutely destroyed.” Richie nodded and gave Eddie a nostalgic look before he turned back around. “Thanks for the advice.”

A Greta Keene party in action was the exact opposite of what Eddie thought it would be. The second they arrived everyone went their separate ways, and Eddie stood alone near the door for a long while before a girl with too much makeup on introduced herself and got him something to drink. Eddie did not drink until now. He, eventually, managed to stumble down the stairs and into the basement despite Bev’s advice to stay away. There was a snack table down there and soon enough he was curled into a corner of a loveseat talking to Bill, tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I just... I love him so much still. And she’s just getting herself hurt! And I love her so much, Bill. I love them so much.” Bill nodded knowingly.

“And you know that S-S-St-Ssstan won’t talk to me about anything! I wanna be there for him but he always changes the subject on me.” The party had given Bill a security in his confidence to the point of the stutter barely even coming out as they spoke, and they spoke terribly slow at times. “I w-wanna help him and let him know that he’s not alone and that I-I-I’ll be there for him. I don’t think I could ever leave him. We need each other.”

“I know you guys are so cute together! You’re perfect oh my god I love both of you so much and you make him so happy, he hasn’t smiled this much in years. He loves you so much. I’m so sorry I tried to date you.”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’s completely okay!” Bill was laughing now and it was making Eddie laugh as well. Or giggling, rather. “You got him to come out to your friends at least so that’s good! I’m really happy I met you, it’s so fucking nice to have met you, you’re so great, Eddie. You deserve so much more than Richie.”

“That’s nice but I feel like I don’t. What if he’s the best thing that ever happened to me?”

“Eddie, if he’s not willing to be loyal than he’s not the best you can do. You’re so nice and pretty and sweet and funny and amazing and you should go to New York to see Mike if he can’t come here. He’s the kind of person you need!”

“I... I think I wanna give it another shot with him.”

“Eddie! Don’t!”

“I think I’m gonna.” Eddie pulled himself off of the couch despite Bill’s protests and slipped from his soft grip, climbing the stairs and finding Richie grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. In an instant he had grabbed Richie’s hand and pulled him towards himself. When Richie looked at him, he felt his heart explode into a million shards of glass and his stomach churned. What a familiar and good feeling it was, something he hadn’t felt in ages.

“Jesus, Eddie. How high are you?” His voice was soft and nurturing, forgiving, forgivable, lovable. When their lips collided and the world smashed itself to piece the placement of Earth in the solar system felt right down to the very last speck of dust on his bookshelf at home. The feeling of touching fingertips and stolen moments combined with the thus of plastic and tile, bumping and booming bass, reaching hands and feeble hearts, sharp vocals and squeaking sneakers filled his chest through his mouth and the taste of cherry coke returned to him as it always used to.

Richie Tozier, in this moment, was all fresh freckles forming like constellations and sickly sweet smiles from across classrooms when vacancy was a form of currency. Eyes like oceans and arms like metaphors wrapping tightly around the waists of words, enveloping them like a childhood blanket. Like an old friend.

When they parted, like a ship on its maiden voyage across the sea, Richie’s smile was caught with perfect white teeth. “The question still stands.”

“I ate like nine of the brownies on that table downstairs.”

“Right. So you’re baked.”

“Like. A. Cake.” Matter-of-fact words were accented by another kiss, this time including harsh granite pressing into his back and a pressure in his chest from Richie’s weight on him. He hoped he wouldn’t regret this when he was more aware of himself again. He hoped this feeling of pure bliss would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kill me if you want


	10. Civil Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me being extra for no reason? Yeah
> 
> Is this literally a rip off of TPOBAW? Yeah
> 
> Have I seen or read it in a while? No
> 
> Did Richie cry as much as I said he would? No
> 
> It’s how we live it’s whatever goodnight

Waking up in Richie Tozier’s arms with a pounding headache felt a little bit like giving up. The light pushing through the slit in the curtains made him feel like he was burning from the inside out so he decided to duck his head down into Richie’s chest, to let the lanky boy form a crescent moon worth sleeping in around him if only to block out the sun and to give himself enough security that this was okay and that Richie deserved this.

Being held by Richie Tozier still felt a little bit like lovesick hours and sunrises on beaches and his heart when he got off the Greyhound and the wind in his hair when he rode in Richie’s truck. It was all the good feelings he could offer. Eventually, however, he grew tired of staring at Richie’s chest so he decided to twist onto his other side. The first thing he noticed was the lack of posters and messy scribbles on the walls. It took longer than he would have wished that it did, longer for him to realize what had happened. The picture on the nightstand confirmed it for him.

Eddie, the only openly gay person in Derry at the moment, was in the arms of Richie, who had mostly proven to reach most people’s standards for a straight main but had too much of a flamboyant personality for anyone to really be sure of it, in the bedroom of Greta Keene, the most notorious bitch in their school who has almost single handedly turned everyone against Bev. The shrieking laughter just outside the door made his heart stop and he instantly turned right back around, burying his face in Richie’s chest. Maybe if they couldn’t see his face they wouldn’t know.

Believe it or not, Richie’s reputation was very important to him and everyone made an unconscious effort to not let themselves hurt it. Though he was not going to have to deal with only the town this time, it was almost exclusively the wrath of Wentworth Tozier. The door opened. “Holy shit.” It was a whisper but it felt like a scream when it was followed up by the click and screech of a Polaroid camera. “Oh she’s gonna love this one. Her boyfriend is with Kaspbrak! There’s no coming back from that!” His back tensed as the door was softly closed.

It felt like years before the tightness in his throat went away enough to the point that he could actually speak. His hands pressed into Richie’s shoulder as he shook him. Hard. “Richie get up.”

“Mm.” Another shake.

“Richie.” Everything was harsh whispers and hard shakes.

“Richard Tozier wake the fuck up!”

“What?”

At the final shake, Richie’s eyes blinked open, his arm instantly going back to stretch before sitting up, shaking his hair.

“Baby, it’s too early for this.” The word baby hit him like a brick. His heart turned over familiarly in his chest and he felt a smile twist onto his face. His hand easily slid into Richie’s hair and he pulled him close, a soft kiss being shared between them with Richie’s arm instantly slipping around his waist. When they pulled apart, Eddie’s fingers curled around black locks.

“Greta knows.” The softness of his tone and the firmness of his smirk did not strike him as odd at first.

“About what?” His nose was buried against Eddie’s cheek.

“Us. You.” The arms around his waist became slack and his face was pulled away from him. He had never seen Richie be afraid of anything, but that was the only way to describe his expression.

“Y-you mean me like bad or me like this?”

“You like this. She and her friends came in earlier. I think they have a couple pictures.”

Richie looked like he might throw up. He yanked himself away from Eddie and rolled out of bed, jumping into his clothes and pushing on his glasses. He zipped up his jeans as he rushed out the door, Eddie could hear him yelling for Greta, hear her laughing. Just as he had finished putting his shoes on, Richie busted into the room, grabbing his jacket. “Eddie, we’re leaving. Hurry the fuck up.”

Aggression had felt unfamiliar when it came to him, Richie was always so calm when they spoke. Before he could blink they were out the door and walking down the sidewalk. By the time they had reached Richie’s home, his eyes were bleary and he couldn’t make it up on the first step.

Eddie gazed at Richie then, and saw a side of him that he hadn’t seen in so many years. The morning sun shined through the wisps of his hair, he had worn contacts to the party so he lacked his glasses, but it didn’t pull anything from his appearance at all. A shirt hung loosely on his especially thin frame and his jeans were just tight enough to not seem baggy. His shoulders and chest shook with every breath he took.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay Eds? Make sure Stan and Bill are okay.” Eddie nodded absently, having briefly touched Richie’s hand before he noticed the shade on the second floor snapping shut. The front door was pulled open only seconds later, standing in it was Richie’s older sister, Rachel, with a toothy grin on her face, all too similar to her brothers whenever he did something wrong.

She always spoke with exaggerated expressions, this time being accented by comically raised eyebrows and half straightened hair. “Dad’s gonna fucking kill you.”

“Over what?” Richie tried to play it cool as he started his venture towards the door.

Rachel held her hand to her face as if it were a phone, thumb and pinky extended. “Oh hey Rach! Nice to talk to you again. Y’know Richie? Yeah he was at this party Greta and I had last night. Weird though, I thought he was dating Bev. Well anyways, so I was going into the kitchen to get some ice for are drinks and I just walked up and there he was! Making out with Eddie Kaspbrak, he had his hands down his pants and shit it was so gross! Haha, anyways so then Greta and I checked her room this morning and there they were! In bed together! That’s so weird right!? Okay, gotta go!” She dropped her hand and looked extremely proud of herself. “Not the favorite anymore I guess. And don’t worry at all, I already called Bev’s house and left a message about the whole thing for you.”

“Rachel-“

“Dad’s waiting for you. Bye, Eddie!” She pulled Richie inside with her and slammed the door.

He had always known that the fight for their fathers affection and attention could turn viscous in their house considering how little he was around and how sparingly he was seen by his children, but he never thought it would drive them to the point of acting maliciously towards one another. He was thankful he didn’t have any siblings to deal with in such a way and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he walked the rest of the way home, making a few calls to check on Bill and Bev, then on Stan.

  
Richie’s heart was in his throat. He entered the living room with his eyes down in order to pass to get to the stairs, being stopped by his father at the door to his bedroom. He had almost made it. “Richie, we need to talk.” The door was silently shut and locked by his father as he took a seat on the bed, staring down at his comforter.

  
As far as his father goes, the Eddie Effect did not end by the time he drove off to school the next day. He parked directly in front of the school and climbed out without a sound, backpack slung over his shoulder. There was an instantaneous air that fell over the students of Derry High when the saw him, sweater on, hair a mess, bags under his eyes almost as noticeable as the nasty bruise and knuckle shaped points along his brow bone.

Bev met him at the door and walked close to him, worry on her face, hand wrapped carefully in his sleeve. He didn’t get to see anyone besides her until lunch, so the day passed with whispering clearly about him sprinkled around. Only once he entered the cafeteria and had been walking to his table with his food did anything really trigger and emotion.

Patrick Hocksetter had seen him walking past the table and stuck out his foot, tripping Richie and causing his tray to fly a few feet ahead of him. There was laughter from their table as he pushed himself up. “Watch where you’re going, faggot.” Henry chuckled, but this only made Richie stand taller.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“What the fuck did you call me, Bowers?”

Henry stood now, Richie wanted to yank him by his mullet. “I didn’t call you anything, faggot.” There was an instant in which there was nothing, and then there was skin colliding with skin. If there was one thing Richie knew how to do, it was throwing a punch. In a second the rest of Bower’s gang was up and holding him by his arms while Henry pounded on him.

When you were floating outside of your body, everything started to feel numb. You didn’t have to think about how your father would never stop or how your sister’s face looked when she realized that he wouldn’t or how your mother would stand idly by before disappearing into the study with her cat and fourth- no fifth glass of wine in the past few hours. He didn’t snap back into reality until he heard Bev shriek his name when she saw across the room what was happening, Stan and Bill following as quickly as they could.

Eddie had only just entered the cafeteria when Bev’s fist made contact with Henry’s mouth and Richie had completely collapsed onto the floor. The world was a hazy cloud as Richie was rushed to his feet by Stan and Bill and practically carried out of the cafeteria. If Richie’s father knew that he was in the hospital because of this he’d only have to go back. This wasn’t the kind of thing Wentworth wanted his son to be known for.

Eddie waited for Bev before following them out to the gym, sitting gathered around Richie. “So I think Henry found out about yesterday.”


	11. I am fortune’s fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short one bc I’m out of school now and gonna be uploading a lot this week while I prep for my college courses!! Xx
> 
> Also hi I’m a slut welcome to my trash this week on MIHS: benverly and reddie begin, stilley continues (is that their ship name???) and mike is still in New York. Aaaaaaaaaand also read the end notes I’ve got a fun surprise that only I’m excited for lmao.

While the situation was being handled as well as possible by Eddie and Stan as far as surface level medical things go, but Bev still felt the need to help the best way she could. She dashed across campus to the library, speed walking inside and making her way into the non-fiction section, staring up at bookshelves that seemed like they went on for miles. Needless to say, she was completely lost and was a little too nervous around the librarians to ask how the card catalog worked again. Being alone in a library was always terrifying to her, it always made her begin to panic. She was in a large quiet room surrounded by people who probably hated her. Sometimes it was hard being Beverly Marsh. It was hard being Beverly Marsh most of the time.

She scanned over title after title until she felt two fingers tap her on the shoulder and she turned around.

Instantly, a large smile spread across her face. “Hey, Bev.” She had honestly forgotten what he looks like a little bit. “You, no offense, but you sort of look like you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Ben.” She hadn’t realized she’d whispered the name out loud until he raised an eyebrow and she grabbed him by the hands. “Ben! What’s up? How’re you?”

“Oh um, I’m good. Pretty good. What uh... what happened with you? I thought we had a good time and then you... wouldn’t answer my calls. Some guy answered and said you weren’t interested — is that your boyfriend? I mean it’s not a big deal I just wanted to know.” He glanced at their hands and she took notice in how his cheeks had less baby fat.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I just had some stuff going on and it just wasn’t the best time for me to put myself out there and start dating. And no, that was definitely my dad on the phone. I know I kinda messed up last time but... if you wanted to we could try it again? Go on another date I mean? I think I worked my situation out.”

“Are you busy Saturday?” She hadn’t actually kissed Ben on their date, and she’s sort of glad she didn’t. She didn’t want this to be another Richie situation, she didn’t want it to be a situation at all.

“I am now. They’re showing Star Wars at the theater downtown, if you wanna find out a time for us.”

“You like Star Wars?”

“Yeah! Well, actually, it’s been a while since I’ve seen it but I remember really liking it when I was a kid. I had a thing for Harrison Ford.”

“Weird, I had a thing for Carrie Fisher!”

She laughed and realized that she had let go of his hands a while ago, sticking them in her back pockets to make sure that she still had her money and pack of cigarettes she had stolen from Greta’s house two days ago. “I promise next time you call me my dad won’t answer, but if he does just tell him that you’re Ben from Social Studies. Ben from Sosh, very fitting, very forward thinking, right?”

“Sounds like a plan, Bev from Sosh. But I’m almost positive it’s called APUSH now.”

She had just begun to laugh when her name was stage-whispered, causing her to turn her head.

“Bev, can you stop flirting please? We have an emergency on our hands!” She turned the rest of the way around to look at Eddie and Ben took the opportunity to admire how even under artificial lights her hair could sparkle like a fire. Eddie lowered his eyebrows. “Who’s that?”

He was brought back into the conversation and shuffled to stand next to Beverly, sticking his hand out to Eddie. “Ben-“

“From Sosh. APUSH. Whatever. He’s... the guy. Y’know. The guy?” There was a moment of confusion followed by clarity on Eddie’s face as he shook Ben’s hand. His skin was soft.

“The guy. Right. I’m Eddie, now Bev we need to go.”

“Okay, no problem. See you in APUSH, Ben. Stay cool.” She sent him a wink before racing after Eddie and out of the library, getting to the gym and helping press an ice pack to Richie’s temple. Eddie had been sent to look for Bev as she hadn’t returned with their medical information quick enough, so before he went looking for her he had gone ahead and figured it out for himself.

“I don’t think he got hit hard enough to cause a concussion but just make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. And we need to keep his head elevated.”

“Hey, Dr. Kaspbrak? I think I’m gonna live. My dad fucked me up way worse than Bowers could.”

“Your father is one guy, there were technically four guys attacking you.”

“Eds, you’ve never gotten punched by my dad apparently.”

“Point taken.”

When Richie stopped bleeding from various places on his face and had made it abundantly clear that he could walk, talk, and do basic math just fine to Eddie, the group dispersed to their classes. Richie and Bev had stepped out for the last few minutes of their hour lunch break to smoke behind the gym while Stan and Bill headed to their next class, leaving Eddie to wander down to the band hall alone.

He and Richie were not exactly together, not exactly at all, but they were better. Running away had burned Eddie out and he had been taught to be forgiving to a fault, especially after this week. Richie acting so kindly to him and being so humbly soft, so domestically simplistic while dealing with his father and with Henry. He was the gentle kind of terrible, the kind worth holding until it was better.

The bell rang and Eddie stuffed his hands into his pockets, fast-walking to the C-Wing, ready for APUSH, the only class he had with all of his friends. He would call Mike tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m tired of being ANGSTY so next chapter is just gonna be a fluff fest whoops let me be HAPPY
> 
> Now I know what you must be thinking: what fucking school let’s you have an hour for lunch? And the answer is: block schools — you have normal classes but your primary focus is a single subject (sorta like college yknow??) like richie, for example, is in the theater block which means that he has normal classes but all of his other stuff has a primary focus on theater, Eddie is on the medical block and bev and bill are on art blocks, Stan is on a film/production/photography block, and ben is on “special plan” meaning he doesn’t have any blocks just free periods that he spends in the library aaand mike was on a music block but yknow he moved.
> 
> Feel free to disagree w me in the comments I want to be torn apart.


	12. B-A-B-Y Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told u this was just gonna be a fluffy stupid benverly mess right

From the perspective of her friends, watching anyone be in love with Bev is hard to do. It always happens the same way. The person will hear things, believe things, and then expect these things only to be disappointed when it isn’t true. She did not live her life at parties every night, rather she closed her door and listened to music while she made her notes pretty. She did not flirt with boys and cause trouble, she would walk to the laundromat with her eyes down and try to ignore how she knew that Ms. Rodriguez from the grocery store made sure her son never got especially close to her when she was waiting for her clothes to be done in the dryer.

It was the same routine, every week was exactly like the last once her friends were gone, and she found comfort in the familiarity. So, with a laundry basket on her hip as if it were a child, she walked down the stairs and along the sidewalk for three blocks before crossing the street and getting to the only laundromat in Derry.

When she stepped inside, something was different — the routine had been thrown off. At the washer on the far left was not Ms. Rodriguez, but rather Ben Hanscom, who sat on a bench and had headphones on. That’’s right, she had heard Ms. Rodriguez say she was going on vacation, only to be instantly replaced.

She smiled and went up behind him, quietly pulling the headphones from off of his head and slipping them onto her own. Watching him turn around while she nodded along to his music. “I didn’t take you for a big Axl Rose kinda guy.” He stared at her the way he stared at well constructed buildings and movie screens — like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. She handed him back his headphones and he smiled.

“My mom just bought me the CD, it’s her favorite album.” They had the same stupid smile on their faces.

“We still on for Star Wars?” Bev stepped over the bench and walked to the washer next to his, filling it with her clothes and tossing in some detergent.

“I’d still go even if we weren’t.”

She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She was dressed like an 80s tv mom with her hair in the messiest bun he had ever seen. He wasn’t sure how it was even staying, but it was sort of fun seeing how much it moved when she walked.

“I’m sure you would. You’re a loser.” Bev laughed and tossed a ring of keys from one of her belt-loops. When he raised an eyebrow she pointed to a set of lockers against the far wall. “Linda stores her snacks in there and her daughter lets me steal them.” She winked at him and turned back to her laundry basket, grabbing a drink from inside and going into the lockers he had just opened.

  
“So do you like Hamlet much so far?” Ben asked, having just moved his clothes into the drier, sitting crisscross on the bench, lifting his eyes at Bev. She was painting his nails bright blue.

“Yeah. It’s okay, I guess. I just... man, I hate Shakespeare. It’s all sort of hard to understand and it’s just sort of stupid. I mean, I get it, I get why we learn about it, I just don’t like it that much. His dad is a ghost? And he’s taking advice from that ghost? Ghosts aren’t even scary.” She shrugged, rolling her eyes and blowing smoke through her nose. She had to talk around her cigarette, as Ben said he wouldn’t mind. “You know what’s scary?” She looked up from his nails, looking into his eyes. “Getting old.”

“Isn’t that sort of counterintuitive? You’re afraid of getting old but think ghosts are bullshit.”

“No, no, no! Im not afraid of dying or death or whatever, just getting old. We’re basically still kids, so I’m allowed to say grownups are terrifying.”

“How’re they terrifying? They’re just sort of rude sometimes.”

“When you get old, you stop listening to people. They’re not sympathetic. They don’t get it and they’re always super distanced from the rest of us. Like... they’ll hear something about you from a few people and now they won’t believe anything else.”

She doesn’t seem like she wants to talk about this fear very much, so he decided to just nod and gesture towards his nails. Bev looked down and looked as though she had actually forgotten what she was doing before tapping the ash from her cigarette onto the ground and opening the bottle.

  
The drier buzzed loudly to indicate that it was done, but neither of them necessarily wanted to leave just yet.

Ben’s nails were dry and glittering under the fluorescent lights and Bev was captivated by how he folded clothes and talked about how much he loved the Breakfast Club after she had mentioned that she hadn’t seen it.

“They all go through so much growth in it and they’re all friends even though they come from such different backgrounds! It’s beautiful! And they know that when they go back to school on Monday they won’t be able to talk about each other to their friends because that’s just how it has to be.”

“Sounds like I need to watch it.” She’d never met a guy who wasn’t aggressively masculine in everything he does. Eddie was sweet and he had his moments, but he would never act passionate or let her paint his nails. Ben was different.

“If you wanted to you could come over this weekend and watch it at my house. We could watch that after we see Star Wars. My mom wouldn’t mind.”

“We should do that. I wasn’t planning on doing anything besides hang out with you this weekend. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah. Do you need a ride over? I just got my license, so I could pick you up.”

“Oh no, my dad doesn’t like when I get picked up by people he doesn’t know. I can ride my bike.” She waved her hand nonchalantly and glanced out the window as she heard a car beeping loudly. She quickly rolled her extra cigarettes into her sleeve and grabbed her laundry hamper. “That’s him.” Her father didn’t like when she walked home alone in the dark. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow. Don’t let anyone give you shit about your nails.” Bev paused, then pressed a small kiss to Ben’s cheek. There was a slight lipstick stain left over. "Bye, Ben.”

“Have a nice night, Bev.”

She waved lightly before pushing open the door, Ben watched as she entered the car and offered a wave towards her father, who didn’t seem especially happy to see him. He watched as they pulled out of the parking lot and sped away. He hadn’t realized how hard his heart was beating until he turned back to his laundry and saw the redness in his reflection.


	13. To speak such vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM ALIVE also the magic school bus™️ did not come out until 2 years after the current date of this fic and I’m honestly pretty sure boy George wasn’t making music in 1992 but idk lmao I’m a gen Z kid who needs fact checking when I have severe anxiety and an eating disorder lmao xoxo gossip grass <3
> 
> **extremely aggressive peace sign**

“I think I love him.” Love wasn’t something difficult to feel, but sometimes it was hard to grasp when it was felt. It was the feeling in his stomach when he rode his bike down a hill during autumn and listened to the crunch of leaves while the wind blew his hair back. The way Christmas lights glittered through his window when the snow was just beginning to fall. It was smiling and not being able to fall asleep because he was so excited for the next day.

 

“It’s a little soon, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s been long enough. I think.” The phone rang then and took them both out of the conversation. The world rocked on its side, he reached out of the bed and grabbed the receiver, pulling it to his ear and listening carefully after a soft “hello?”

 

“So I really don’t want to alarm you or anything but I think Stan’s gonna kill himself.”

 

In the background of the call, around Eddie’s voice, the starkness of wobbling tone could be heard. “WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?”

 

“Why are you calling me about this instead of his boyfriend? I just... don’t know how big of a help I’ll be.”

 

“Oh uh... Bill’s in Florida right now for his brother’s birthday Disney trip thing.”

 

“Well what happened, why’s he gonna kill himself?”

 

“Can you stop acting like you’re some busy person and come help me? I’m like... 99% sure he’s 13 seconds away from shooting himself.”

 

“Okay. That’s fair. We’ll be there soon.” He hung up the phone before Eddie could and suddenly he and Bev were running out the door, jumping down staircases and blasting past parents with bewildered expressions and gently shaking hands. The car was practically out of the driveway by the time they were in it, speeding down the street and then parking again in front of another house that only had an old VW rabbit in front of it, a house lacking parents.

 

Stan sat with his arms wrapped around his head and his hands buried in his hair.

 

“Stan, what’s up?”

 

He looked up, instantly pushing away the comforting arm being offered to him by Bev and went inside again. “Why did you invite them over? I didn’t ask you to invite them over!”

 

Eddie, who had been sitting on the stairs, stood up as Stan passed him by. “They’re here to help you!”

 

Walking in Stan’s house always felt like they were walking into a church. Everything was a little old and you had to be quiet and respectful. “What happened?” Bev looked up at the narrow hallway above the steep staircase, raising her brows.

 

“I’m not sure. He just called me crying early and asked if I could come over. So I did. And he hates that I asked you guys to come over but what else am I supposed to do? Wait for him to get over it? Nuh-uh. Also I’m still not crazy about you guys hanging out alone.”

 

“That was months ago.”

 

“Richie, I’m _gay_. We don’t get over shit easily.”

 

“Baby-“

 

“Stop, gross, not the time. Just go fucking talk to him.”

 

Richie rolled his eyes and we, following Bev into Stan’s room. “Stanley Uris what the fuck us up, what’s the problem?”

 

Stan sat in the center of a circle made completely out of neatly folded clothing. He pressed his hands to his forehead and let his elbows extend out wide. “We have the very formal semi-formal next week and my parents want me to take a girl but I can’t do that because I need to take Bill because I love him and he’s my boyfriend and I also don’t have anything to fucking wear and also Bill’s in Florida for God knows how long and I can’t call him because his parents would want to know who it was and if he says it’s not me they’ll want to say hi but if it’s me he can’t be suspicious but everything he does is fucking suspicious. He’s such a dumbass I love him so much I want to die.”

 

It took a moment to sort the words into coherent sentences from how fast he was talking, but relatively quickly Bev made a “pff!” noise and threw her hands into the air. The way her top caught on her body when she moved made Richie want to slam his head against the wall. “Dude, you can take me! I’m an attractive young lady of less than respectable status and your parents would love me! Plus I’m a red head.”

 

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

 

“Being a ginger is as rare as being Jewish in Derry, Stan. We’re the minority. We gotta stick together and kick the mans ass!”

 

“Oh my God I’m never gonna be able to go to the semi-formal. They’re gonna kill me for trying to take Bev.”

 

“Okay fucking fine I see how it is, what other girls do you know?”

 

“Well," Richie concentrated very hard on the question. “Most of us are gay or are found repulsive by anyone who has a vagina, but I’m pretty sure Audra from theater doesn’t completely hate me, but she’s going through one of those really artsy and forward thinking man hating phases so she’d absolutely go if we paid her and she got to jump off the Stan train immediately after you leave your parents house.”

 

“There’s Mara from home ec?” Eddie chimed in.

 

“Yeah but she’s really fat, she’d swallow Stan whole if they sat within five feet of each other.” Richie then turned quickly and gasped, reaching desperately for the donut in Eddie’s hand. “Give papa a bite!”

 

“Richie you’re not helping at all by calling yourself papa.”

 

Bev practically gagged at his comment. “And don’t be a fucking asshole, Mara’s never done anything to you.”

 

Mid-chew, Richie turned back around. “I don’t care, shut up. There’s also Patty from stats. She’s really nice but she’s a fucking brick, dude. Like she’s 100% not qualified to be in that class. But she’s Jewish.”

 

“Wow Richie you’re a genius,” Bev pressed her palms to her cheeks, looking amazed at him. “Let’s target the insecure and bad at math Jewish girl by getting her to go on a date to the semi-formal only to reveal that she went with our gay friend and that the whole thing was just a clever plan to make sure he could go!”

 

“I know right?” He had taken another bite of donut. “I just get these great ideas sometimes, it’s like I’m Jesus or something.”

 

“Stop comparing yourself to Jesus, that’s like the third time this week!” Eddie tossed a balled up napkin at him.

 

“But I’m practicing for Godspell! I have to be Jesus if I wanna BE Jesus!”

 

“I’m so fucking glad he does at the end of the show.” Bev rolled her eyes and sat down just outside of Stan’s circle, making sure not to disturb any of the clothes. “Why don’t we just skip the semi-formal?”

 

“What do you mean skip the semi-formal? We can’t skip it! It’s a really big deal!” Stan looked horrified at the idea.

 

“I mean, Stan, you’re not Richie. There’s absolutely no situation where you’d actually have fun at this thing. And you’re not gonna dance with Bill even if you take him because we live in Derry and you’d probably have an aneurism before you touched his hand. We can all just go get food and then fuck around at the Barrens. Like always.”

 

“Bill’s never hung out with you guys like that, though.”

 

Richie, from around his napkin, furrowed his brow. “Are you embarrassed of us?”

 

It was clear that Stan wanted to say yes. “He’s just not used to such... emotionally loud people... I guess? He can’t articulate himself very well and he stutters a lot when he’s nervous and new people make him nervous and you’re all... a lot. I mean, he likes Eddie and Ben, but he doesn’t know either of you.”

 

“Wow, insulted by the love of my life. I’m not emotionally loud!” He most certainly was, and he was physically loud. “I’m as quiet as a mouth! His gay ass won’t know what he’s missing until he tries it!”

 

“Yeah, it’s true. No one gets to know Richie until he cheats on me with them.” Eddie’s arms were crossed as he leaned against the door frame, looking skeptically at the three of them. Nothing good ever came from their ideas.

 

“Oh my God that was like... one time!”

 

“Okay, no, it was at least three times.” Bev scrunched her nose as she looked at him, then turned back to Stan. “Anyways! We’d have a much better time without the school knowing what we’re doing. And it’s not even a big deal, I’ve talked to Bill in art class, he seems totally cool. The only thing that would throw him off is Richie but no one likes Richie that much.”

 

Richie gasped obnoxiously, but Bev quickly continued in place of his comment. “It’ll be like... secret prom! Or... the secret semi-formal! It’s gonna be fun we’re gonna have music and dancing and food and shit. A real fuckin’ shindig. It’s gonna be like an Elton John slash Boy George concert in the woods!”

 

Stan was absolutely stumped at this. It was a good idea, but at what cost? After a solid minute of making mouth movements that lacked words, he focused on his neatly folded socks and nodded. “Yeah. That’ll work I guess. We can make our own semi-formal thing. It’ll look nice in pictures if we can figure out how to get cool lighting. Yeah. Yeah let’s do that I guess.”

 

“Fantastic, I’ll figure some shit out and make Richie hang pretty lights in trees.”

 

“I’m not built for manual labor, Beverly!”

 

“It’s charity work, we’re giving you life skills. You’ll get over it.”

 

This was either going to be amazing or completely awful. Probably a little of both, but event planning was a skill he wanted to develop better. He felt a lot like Arnold from The Magic School Bus, but all of their misadventures turned out fine. So this might too.

 

He was going to be dead before he could even ask Bill to go with him from how anxious the whole ordeal was making him.


	14. karma chameleon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be done a lot sooner sorry

It was hard to know true emptiness until you’ve sat alone in the choir section of your church while the weekly service was going on below you. Stan’s knee bobbed and his head hung low, fingers staying busy by sketching birds in his notebook, lips curling around Kim Carnes’ voice as it slipped easily through the tape in his walkman. Time off from school is always seen as this really great thing, but it was a very lonely time.

 

He was put in charge of making a playlist for the secret semi-formal, and so far it was going sort of terribly. It was all music he wasn’t sure if anyone else would like but he absolutely adored it. The service ended around the time that Queen started playing which meant he had to cut the music and run as quietly as possible down the stairs, sneak into a back pew next to the other kids who were only there because their parents wanted the to be. At this point, it was easy. They knew the routine as well as him, the door in the very side of the room would open softly, he was run to the pew and slip in, shuffling down the seat and sitting between a boy named Dani who sat with his girlfriend and his sister, who had blue hair and didn’t know how to dress appropriately for church. They lived on the other side of town, apparently, but all the locals knew that their house was the best place to buy drugs. Maybe he should thank Bev by buying her weed.

 

Richie had told him once that there’s two things you never do: buy your weed from rich kid or ask a girl where her boyfriend is. He didn’t really know the full context of the second point, but the first was something he took to heart despite the fact that he sort of despised weed in all forms. It made him gag when Bev showed up to film smelling like it.

 

Once the service ended their row was the first to go and he was reminded that they most certainly weren’t as much Jewish as they were looking for a place to hang out for free on the weekends. Usually the whole family was there but this time it was different, the mom was sick probably. She always had a terrible cough. Stan exited the church first and stood at the door, smiling and shaking hands with people as they walked out. It felt like it took an hour, but pretty soon Stan was in his car going down the back roads to Richie’s house. He parked his car and walked exactly a quarter of a mile to get to Bill’s, who’s door he knocked on and waited patiently for an answer.

 

Upon entry to the house, he raced upstairs as fast as possible, entering Bill’s expansive room. “Bill Denbrough,” Bill looked back at him from his wall, where he had been putting up a poster. “Will you go to the super secret fake semi-formal with me?” That smile always made his heart flutter like it was the first time he was seeing it.

 

 

Pulsating blue lights felt a little like a heartbeat when you watched for long enough. Bev had needed to do a few things at her house before she could even ask for permission to leave, so they sat with their half-finished decorations in the back of Richie’s pickup together. Arm around shoulder, heads resting gingerly against one another, regret strung out almost as much as his boyfriend. Could Eddie even call him that? He supposed he had been letting him regain the title pretty quickly considering how badly he had broken his heart. Maybe that’s all he was destined for in a romantic sense.

 

Some people can go their whole lives never finding someone, some can find a new person every other week, and then there was Eddie. He was still hung up on his childhood crush and would subconsciously do anything to be with him, even if he knew how toxic and terrible Richie was. It felt a little bit like less serious Stockholm syndrome.

 

“Hey, Rich?” Fingers curled elegantly around his boyfriend’s glancing down at his bracelets. He had a matching one with Bev that felt like a little stab to the chest.

 

“Yeah, baby?” Richie glanced at him, eyes the smallest bit blood-shot, at this point he wasn’t quite sure if it was being high or just how he looked.

 

“Was she your first?” It took Richie a moment to think about it, or maybe it was just a strange subject for him to respond to. Eddie was always second guessing things about Richie ever since he got back.

 

“Yeah, she was, but it happened a few years ago. It’s just never really been super important to me for it to be... like... special or whatever I guess.”

 

“I could’ve guessed that one. You’re a certified man whore egomaniac.”

 

Richie smiled, pressing his fingers into Eddie’s cheek. “I love it when you call me out for doing what I love.”

 

“Should I call you a pathological liar and cheater then too?”

 

Eddie brushed away his hand, but settled for tracing patterns into his palm. “So what, you’re planning on being a virgin for the rest of your life just to prove a point? Not everything has to be super special. Sometimes you just do things because you’re bored.”

 

“Like cheat on your boyfriend with a girl who’s not even interested in you?”

 

“Yes, exactly. No one needs to be, like, in love in order to fuck someone else. You just both need to want to do it.”

 

“Wow, thanks so much for this basic lesson on consent I feel so enlightened.” Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed Richie off of him, pulling down his sweatshirt and hopping out of the back of the truck, not glancing back at Richie he started to climb a far off tree, trying his best to wrap lights around the branches without falling off. His mother probably wasn’t worried about where he was, and he hated to admit it but that bothered him a little bit. He almost missed the overbearing roll she had played in his life up until he ran away. Now home was just quick smiles and saying hello in passing, barely asking how each other’s day was and then moving on to their own things.

 

Maybe it was the realization that he could just leave any time he wanted to and there was little effort to be made to stop him. When Eddie was determined enough to do something once, nearly nothing would stop him from doing it again and again. Besides, he already knew he could run much faster than her, and cars can only get you so far when it comes to finding your son.

 

“Really? You’re mad at me now? What did I do?”

 

“I’m not mad at you, it’s just a little frustrating to hear about your boyfriend’s sexual conquests.”

 

“You’re the one who asked about them!”

 

“Suck an absolute **_DICK_** you selfish piece of shit I don’t want to fight with you anymore I left for a fucking week last time we fought!” Eddie was practically shrieking from his place in the tree, throwing Christmas lights as aggressively around the branch as someone the size of a 12-year-old pageant queen runner-up from Alabama could. But Eddie was none of those things. He was not 12, nor a pageant queen runner-up, and certainly not from Alabama. He was just angry and, obviously, gay.

 

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S DOING ALL THE FIGHTING!” Richie shuffled loudly off the truck and stormed over to Eddie and his tree, looking up at him.

 

“I WILL RIP YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT YOU BEHEMOTH!”

 

“The lights look really pretty, by the way.”

 

“Oh my God I know, don’t they? I think we picked a really nice color. Thanks for bringing the generator.”

 

“Yeah no problem, I wanted to do something nice for everyone since you all hate me.”

 

“Richie, I’m the only one who hates you and you can KISS MY ASS IF YOU THINK WE’RE DONE FIGHTING!”

 

Richie threw his hands up into the air, clearly being melodramatic and upset about absolutely everything. “I’M SORRY OKAY!?”

 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN SORRY FOR ANYTHING IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE!”

 

“Do you think they know we’re here?” Stan stayed quiet, barely whispering to Bev. He was ready to drop his potato salad and go home.

 

“Probably not?” Bev shrugged. “What are they even fighting about?”

 

“Boy... stuff?”

 

“OH SO IT’S _**MY**_ FAULT THAT YOU WON’T FUCK ME?”

 

“YEAH, KINDA! I DON’T GET WHAT I’M DOING WRONG SO IT MUST NOT BE ME!”

 

“YOU C H E A T E D O N M E WITH B E V HOW THE FUCK ELSE SHOULD I FEEL ABOUT IT! I DON’T WANT TO BE ON THE FUCKING LIST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!”

 

“IT’S DIFFERENT NOW I’VE CHANGED!”

 

“IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS YOU DON’T CHANGE THAT QUICKLY!” They stood face-to-face now. Or as close to face-to-face as they could get.

 

“We should probably interrupt, right?” This probably wasn’t the best way for Ben to get to know everyone.

 

“Probably?” Bev cleared her throat, then stepped around the front of the truck. “HEY GUYS WE’RE HERE HOPE YOU HAD FUN WITHOUT US HAHA!”

 

Eddie practically whipped his head to the side to smile at Bev, waving at her. “Hey! We just finished putting everything up!”

 

The little clearing they decided to used looked like a dim fairy ring complete with twinkling lights, a few coolers, culture club, and the sole few non-straight people that were currently living in the small town of Derry, Maine.

 

This was going to be the best worst secret non-formal semi-formal in the woods ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also hi! I have a tumblr (it’s the same as my username on here: bevsmrsh) || message me on there if you want/if you have any questions!
> 
> I’m working on some other small writing projects that I’ll be posting soon-ish, sorry for such a delay in posting chapters on this and teen suicide: dont do it!


	15. come on eileen (oh i swear what he means)

The event was kicked off with soft talking and drinking beer, Bev had painted Ben’s nails bright blue to match his eyes and his face sparkled with accents of glitter when the light hit him in the right way. People started arriving, people that none of them knew they invited, and they just did the same thing everyone else was doing. They watched and listened and swayed to the slower songs and drank.   
  
It was mostly the drama kids and jazz band nerds that populated their tiny stretch of light-up forest, as well as a few strangers they’d seen at school were there too. Mostly the shady kids no one talked to, but who were they to judge? The only downside to this crowd was that they’re all incredibly boring at a party — except for the girl who was already too drunk to stand and started sobbing during Rocket Man, stopped during Don’t Stop Me Now, and then continued to sob during a Fleetwood Mac song. Bev and Stan promised to take her home after the event was over, for good reason.   
  
After watching roughly twelve consecutive minutes of sobbing-not sobbing-sobbing, Eddie was done with standing around and wanted to actually participate in dancing. Since these people showed up that most of them didn’t know, Stan was uncomfortably dancing with a girl and Bill was laughing at something Ben was saying. Richie was off to the side smoking with a small portion of the drama club while Bev was talking to a boy about something musical. Eddie settled on pulling Bev away from the band boy and asking her to dance with him.   
  
“So, are you having fun?” Bev asked, he shrugged.   
  
“Not really. He’s probably cheating on me.”   
  
“I don’t think so. He’s pretty into the relationship this time. He wouldn’t lie to me about it.”   
  
“He would absolutely lie to you. He hit you and we’re still friends with him.”   
  
“Yeah but he admitted to hitting me so that’s not a lie.”   
  
“You gotta stop forgiving people who hurt you.”   
  
“He didn’t hurt me, yeah, he hit me, but he didn’t do it on purpose. He would absolutely never hurt me on purpose.”   
  
“He absolutely did it on purpose.”   
  
“Well do you wanna break up with him and stop being his friend? Should we all just get in Stan’s car and go home and never talk to him again?”   
  
“I mean... not really.”   
  
“Then I’m fine. I know what I’m doing, you don’t need to worry about me.”   
  
“I don’t think I’ll ever not worry about you.”   
  
“You should change that.”   
  
The rest of the dance was spent in awkward silence, and as soon as the song ended they broke off from one another and Eddie went to actually find Richie. He was still just smoking with drama kids, and he pulled him aside.   
  
“Why’d you hit her?”   
  
“I’m sorry?”   
  
“Why’d you hit Bev? No one’s ever actually told me why.”   
  
“Do we really need to talk about this now? We’re at a party.”   
  
“That’s never stopped you before.”   
  
“It was stupid, okay? I’m not happy that I did it. And I only did it one time. I was just... upset I guess. We were fighting and I didn’t even realize I was doing it until it was already too late to stop and I feel like shit because of it.”   
  
“But you still did it and you act really shitty to everyone. Why don’t you ever try being nice?”   
  
“I didn’t know I was being mean.”   
  
“Yes you did. You know what you’re doing is wrong. Don’t act like you’re stupid because you’re not.”   
  
“I just... it’s hard to change. I want to, I can’t. Last time I tried to I ended up cheating on you.”   
  
“So you didn’t change at all last time you tried. Just... don’t hit people unless they hit you and be reasonable and be nice and think before you talk and be willing to do things for other people and just... it’s okay to mess up but you can’t mess up every day and say it was an accident because that’s bullshit. I want to love you, Rich. I really, really want to. You’re just really fucking difficult.”   
  
“Awe. I love you too.” He smiled slightly, and Eddie smiled back.   
  
As their little conversation came to a close with a hug and a forehead kiss, there was a rift in the party. Bev, who had gone to talk to Ben, now talked loud enough for people to hear over the music. “WHO’RE YOU?”   
  
Silence, or what they understood as silence, followed, and then a slightly worried. “HEY EDDIE...? CAN YOU COME HERE FOR A MINUTE?”    
  
Eddie glanced at Richie, who shrugged, and slowly walked around the the truck and over to Bev. It was a concerning matter until he saw just what was going on. His mouth fell open as he looked at the surprise. “Mike?”   
  
“Man, Derry’s not any different from what I remember.”   
  
“Where you here?”   
  
“I missed you? And I missed Derry. Thought I might as well visit you and my folks. Plus it wasn’t super hard to find you here. I asked around and heard music.” Mike shrugged.    
  
“That’s... really cool actually.” There was a beat of movement before Eddie went and hugged Mike, who smiled and threw his arms around him. He was a great hugger. “Um, this is Bev.” Eddie said as he stepped away.   
  
“Wait... are you like... New York Mike?”   
  
“I’m like New York Mike.”   
  
“That’s so cool! Do you want a drink or some snacks or something? You’re probably wiped out from the bus ride.”   
  
“I’ll take some water if you guys have it.” Bev nodded and smiled, pressing a hand into Eddie’s arm before going to find a cooler. In that time, Richie had wandered over and looked Mike up and down. Rich was taller by quite a few inches.   
  
“So you’re the famous New York boyfriend?”   
  
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m straight. You must be Richie.”   
  
“What instrument do you play?”   
  
“Acoustic guitar and baritone in middle school.”   
  
“Holy shit,” Richie gently placed a hand against Eddie’s chest, looking at him amazed. “He is straight, huh?”   
  
Mike stared at him strangely, nodding. “That I am.”   
  
“I didn’t know that you had straight friends, Eds.”   
  
“Everyone hates us, I don’t really have a choice.”

 

“Crazy.” Bev came back with water, handing it over to Mike who smiled and practically drank the whole thing as quickly as he could. He sighed, leaning against the truck.   
  
After a while, the group sizzled out and Eddie and Mike were able to stand off to the side together, arms crossed, staring at the dancing people. “So he is Richie, right?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“And you two are back together?”   
  
“Mhm.”   
  
“You’re an idiot, Eddie. He’s not good for you.”   
  
“He’s gonna start trying. Like... really trying. He wants to be better.”   
  
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. He sucks. He’s not gonna change for a while. People don’t change.” He rolled his eyes, glancing over at him, then fully looking. He tossed his hair. “When’d you bleach it?”   
  
“A few weeks ago.”   
  
“I like it. The blonde brings out the grey in your eyes.”   
  
“Thanks. I was looking for a change.”   
  
“Work on him then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes bitch Eddie is a blonde TWINK
> 
> bevsmrsh on tumblr  
> newtadrugdealer on snap


	16. The Games I Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie’s big yikes
> 
> https://pin.it/xf2s63vhrpsa6i
> 
> Tumblr: bevsmrsh

“How the fuck can someone be so bad at D&D? Literally the entire game is chance and the ONE THING you have to do is talk to NPCs to make sure we can proceed in the campaign and you BURNED DOWN THE ENTIRETY OF EAST HAVEN IN ONE FELL SWOOP!” Stan was livid, he gestured madly towards the board and had looks of all sorts being casted towards him.

 

“I’M SORRY I CAN’T CONTROL WHAT HAPPENS WHEN MY WILD MAGE STARTS ACTING UP!”

 

“Those dice are cursed.” Bev was always a little skeptical about anything too wrapped in mumbo-jumbo, but she did believe pretty heavily in the likelihood that it was, in fact, not the player, but the game.

 

“BEN! WE PUT OUR LIVES IN YOUR HANDS AND YOU KILLED HUNDREDS OF FUCKING CLERICS!”

 

“I DIDN’T KNOW HOW POWERFUL IT WAS, OKAY!?” Bev put a reassuring hand on his bicep and nodded softly, slapping the dice off the table and handing her starter set in front of him.

 

“You guys... really take this game seriously, huh?” Mike glanced to Bill, who shrugged and nodded.

 

“It’s the only game all of us can play together and actually enjoy.” His voice was very soft when he wasn’t stuttering.

 

“Can I cast control water and flood the area to make the fire go out?” Bill nodded softly.

 

“Sure but you might kill anyone who’s not out of the buildings.”

 

“Yeah, but I don’t want the fire to spread any further than it has to.” She rolled the die, got a 16, and used up her second spell slot to take out the flames before everyone else in the monastery died a horrible flame-filled death.

 

“Before she floods everything can I roll to catch fire and kill myself?”

 

“Stan that’s not allowed.”

 

“Rolling for suicide!” Richie whooped from his seat, smiling wide as Stan rolled a d20. There was a beat of silence, and then immense laughter.

 

“NAT 20 BITCHES GUESS WHO’S DYING TONIGHT!” Stan and Richie high-fived, which quickly turned his smile into a look of despair as he stared at his hand, whispering “fuck,” under his breath.

 

“THERE’S NO SUICIDE IN D&D!” Eddie yelled.

 

“MIKE SHOOT ME I’LL ROLL A NEW CHARACTER!”

 

“THERE’S NO NIHILISM IN D&D YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

 

“THERE IS NO GOD.”

 

“YOU’RE A CLERIC STANLEY YOU LITERALLY CAN’T BELIEVE THAT!”

 

“TRY ME, BITCH! God is DEAD and WE killed him!”

 

“This is why Kurt Cobain killed himself.” Eddie mumbled, only to have Richie and Bev stand at the exact same time, slam their hands on the table, and loudly announce “he was murdered,” However, Bev’s version ended with “by Courtney Love!” and Richie’s ended with “you heartless bitch!”

 

Mike looked surprised, raising his well sculpted eyebrows until they were nearly hidden by the flower crown Bev had given him as a welcome home gift.

 

“Stan, didn’t your coach tell you that you shouldn’t be stressing all the time before the season starts?”

 

“Yeah, but I’m stressed out literally all the time. D&D’s not going to change anything drastically. Plus I wouldn’t be so stressed out by it if BEN DIDN’T MURDER ALL THE CLERICS IN EAST HAVEN!”

 

“I SAID I’M SORRY!”

 

Bev rolled her eyes and and sat forward in her chair. “Can we please stop fighting? That’s all we’ve been doing for weeks! It’s a game! We’re supposed to be having fun, and we can’t win if we’re divided.”

 

Mike was starting to like Beverly more and more the longer he was in Derry. There was a small, solemn nod around the table, followed by Richie proceeding to take his turn in the round of combat.

 

 

After their 7 hour session of D&D in Bill’s room while it poured outside, they all enjoyed ice cream on the wide open back porch, some sitting in chairs and others on the steps of the stairs and Eddie settling on the railing.

 

“So,” Mike began, taking a look at the six other people on the porch — as well as the cat, apparently named Shit Face for that nasty brown smudge on his head — “Eddie told me you guys make short films?”

 

“Um, yeah. Kinda.” Stan seemed sheepish about it, which clearly meant that he was the one who primarily made them. “They’re kinda shit though.”

 

“Kinda shit!?” Richie was doing a mediocre at best cockney accent. “I think they’re real good I do! They’re fuckin’ marvelous!”

 

“They’re not fuckin’ marvelous, they’re shitty. I can’t even properly edit them and you can totally tell when it’s done.”

 

Bill looked at Mike, shaking his head. “He’s won something like 6 competitions.”

 

“I’m the only person in this town who can make a coherent plot that isn’t about high school angst. I make real shit. I make documentaries!”

 

“He films birds and us doing dumb stuff in the woods.” Bill whispered again to him, which made Stan look slightly disapprovingly at him.

 

“They’re mediocre documentaries.”

 

The rest of the afternoon was spent going back and forth between the porch and Bill’s bedroom, various snacks being exchanged during the trips. They talked and talked and talked and finished the night off with a fine little showing of Cannibal Holocaust as brought by Richie, which left everyone with a big “what the fuck” before they left.

 

 

When Mike arrived after the party there was a silent but side-eye filled moment where Eddie and his mother fought about whether or not he should be allowed to stay with them. Eddie won the argument, as he mostly did ever since his return, and the two headed easily up stairs together and into his room. Today was no different from the first day — this was the third time they’d done it after all.

 

“Sorry I had to drag you to the game. I thought it’d be more fun for you.”

 

“No, Ed, it was fun. I liked meeting all your friends, they seemed nice. Mostly.” They sat down next to one another on the bed, it was still sort of springy and made a sharp noise if you moved too hard, but it was big enough for two and that’s all that mattered when someone was over. “Bill and Bev and Ben especially. But Stan was cool. Richie was... okay. I guess. I dunno, I’m just not crazy about him ‘cause of all the stuff that you told me about with him.”

 

“He’s different now though. He’s really trying, y’know? He wants to actively be my boyfriend now and be there for me.”

 

Mike looked sympathetic, he pressed a knowing hand against the back of Eddie’s; his flower crown was lost in the midst of the day but it was sitting nestled in some corner of Bill’s bedroom, probably collecting dust and being forgotten already. He’d need to go back for it before he left Derry. It was a very nice flower crown.

 

“He’s just really impulsive is his problem, he doesn’t like to think before he does stuff.”

 

“Maybe you think too much before you do stuff and that’s what’s really messing you up with it.”

 

“I know I probably do but it’s hard to just say fuck it and do something!” They were stage whispering. The door was locked but there was no telling where Sonia was at a time like this. She can be very sneaky when she wants to be. “It’s not that easy to let go.”

 

“Do you trust him?”

 

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

 

“ _Do you trust him?_ ”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you love him?”

 

“Sometimes.”

 

“Then you need to learn to let go. He’s just gonna keep breaking your heart. This is the second time I’ve ever even seen hem but I could tell that Stan and Bill were way happier than you guys. You can’t build a house of shaking foundation, it’s just gonna fall over. You’ve gotta start from scratch, and that takes time. You need to just let go!”

 

Eddie Kaspbrak has only ever kissed one boy. He has never willingly taken all of his clothes off in front of another person and he was not going to start doing that today, but kissing was something he considered to be very temporary. It’s okay to make mistakes and kiss people you shouldn’t kiss because you don’t know until you try it. His pulse felt like electricity shooting through his veins and ears pounded when the kiss was done. It was small, only a few seconds long, and it was barely anything to make a big fuss about but since it seemed like everyone else he knew got to do it, he should to. What’s so wrong with kissing cute boys on your bed at 11:33 at night? Why wasn’t he allowed to feel the electricity and the excitement of kissing someone that he never got to feel anymore when it came to Richie.

 

“I’m really sorry I hope that’s okay it just sort of seemed like earlier you were acting kind of like you wanted to and stuff and I really wanted to and it seemed really nice even if it only lasted a few seconds I’m so sorry.”

 

“You don’t need to apologize for everything all the time. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

There goes his plans for leading by example and being loyal to his boyfriend. He really hoped this was okay.


End file.
